Wrapped in Honey
by lady emebalia
Summary: AU in which Sam is a monster who wants to buy himself somebody to feed on. Lucky him, Dean's on sale. Unrelated Wincest, explicit content, warnings inside
1. Chapter 1

**Warnings: **kidnapping, slavery, dub-con, mild gore and body horror

* * *

**Wrapped In Honey**

Sam didn't like the Food Market. He saw the necessity of it in a place like this with a high population of beings feeding on humans but that didn't mean he liked the idea.

Maybe it was because his needs didn't kill the human in question or that he needed him to be a willing participant, however, it was just wrong to buy humans like bread in a supermarket.

Snatched all over the country – runaways, homeless people, illegals, people nobody would miss, people nobody cared about – and carted here so the monsters could feast without drawing attention to themselves.

So far Sam had always relied on his own seducing skills, finding a willing partner whenever he needed one, but that was time-consuming and didn't always end the way he was hoping for. And hunger was a dangerous companion. Making one desperate and sloppy.

Maybe it was time for a constant food supply.

Sam entered the unmarked side-entrance of a building that claimed to be an insurance company. Closing the door behind him, he found himself in a short hallway with a guard blocking the door at the other end.

For a second they sized each other up but then the man stepped aside and made an inviting gesture.

"First time, sir?" He asked politely. The man wasn't human, that much was clear, probably a werewolf from the pack running this place.

Sam swallowed thickly and nodded. This was a bad idea he should turn and just leave. Instead he stepped closer.

"Alright, sir." The man opened the door which led to a staircase. "Just go one floor down, Mr. Briggs will be right there for you."

Sam mumbled a "thanks" and distantly heard the man talking into his radio, announcing the arrival of a customer.

By the time Sam reached the only door at the bottom of the stairs another man, Mr. Briggs he guessed, already waited for him.

They shook hands, his hand warm and doughy in Sam's, and Mr. Briggs didn't waste a minute before he started his spiel.

Since Sam was a first time customer he got the whole speech. Mr. Briggs assured him that this was completely save, no police would come to look for the cargo and Sam wouldn't catch any disease from consuming it. Not once did he call them _human_ or _people_, always cargo.

"Discreet, clean and safe." Mr. Briggs finished his speech with his slogan.

Sam bit back the comment on his tongue and told himself that he should at least have a look. If he bought one before he ended as vampire chow, that was a good thing, right?

It was hypocritical, that was what it was, and he knew it. He wasn't better than a vamp or a were no matter how hard he tried to convince himself. Thinking about it, he was worse. The others who actually ate their victims did so at least rather quickly. Sam was looking for a long-term solution.

"So, Mr. Campbell." The man rubbed his hands like a cheap salesman. Which he technically was. "What are you looking for today?"

"Male." Sam answered. "Between twenty and thirty. Attractive." He kept it simple because he wasn't exactly sure what he was looking for. He needed to see the man.

With the wide spectrum of beings the Food Market supplied with fresh humans they had a similar wide spectrum of humans available at all times, Sam knew that and he was pretty sure that he would find what he was looking for.

"We have a few of those in stock." Mr. Briggs led the way to what Sam assumed was the showing area; long corridors with windows on the sides, five to ten people in each cell. Women, men, children, all sorted in nice little boxes.

"Why the windows?" Sam asked while he followed Mr. Briggs down the aisle. Most of the prisoners sat on the floor on simple mats, looking everywhere but the two men outside.

"At first we had bars. We have a spell in place to prevent them from escaping or attacking us but that don't keep them from throwing the contents of the waste buckets at customers." He shrugged. "This is more hygienic and it keeps the noise down."

Now Sam noticed how quiet it was. There must have been hundreds of humans in these cells but Sam only heard soft voices in the distance, more likely other customers than prisoners.

"Left, sir." Mr. Briggs directed Sam down another aisle. "You should have a look at F/5-8."

When they reached cell number five in corridor F Mr. Briggs pressed a buzzer next to the window and the men inside the cell hurried to stand up and to form a line. Sam didn't want to think about how they'd been trained to do that.

Instead he had a long look at every one of them but in the end he shook his head. One or two were handsome, no question about that, well built and quite his type but it didn't click.

"Not what I'm looking for."

"How about one of these?" Mr. Briggs stepped over to the next cell.

Sam was about to follow him when one of the prisoners lifted his head and for a second their eyes met. The man didn't look away and tried to stare him down instead. Pretty face and amazingly green eyes but it was the intensity of the stare that got Sam's attention.

"Can I have a closer look at this one?" He pointed at the man who still tried to burn holes into his skull.

tbc


	2. Chapter 2

Dean had just enough time to go from _what the fuck_ when the dart bit in his neck to _I'm screwed_ before he lost consciousness. He didn't feel it when he hit the ground.

He woke up in a dim container with other people who were just as confused as he was.

Hit with a tranq dart, woke up here, end of story. Nobody had seen their attackers, nobody knew why they'd been taken or where they were going.

There were thirteen of them.

They were inside a container, pretty sure on a truck judging by the noises, but Dean's guess was as good as anybody else's.

Looking around Dean doubted they were held to ransom. For himself he knew this couldn't be about money. There was only one person who cared if he lived or died and would do whatever he could to help Dean but Bobby wasn't rich by any means.

Dean himself was lucky when he hustled enough money to pay for gas, food and a cheap motel room and more often than not he had to skip the room and sleep in his car. And he couldn't remember the last time he had three meals a day on a regular basis.

The others seemed to come from a similar background. Worn clothes, people in need of a shower and a shave and eyes that knew hunger.

"I've a bad feeling about this." Dean muttered under his breath and got an affirmative murmur from the man sitting next to him.

"Think they'll come looking for us?" The man asked but the way he said it he knew there was nobody coming looking for him.

There just was nobody and Dean got the feeling that was the whole point.

When the truck finally stopped they hurried to get to their feet and crowded in the back, eyes on the doors.

Dean squinted against the sudden brightness when the doors opened.

"Out!" Somebody bellowed and reluctantly they climbed out of the container. The truck stood in some kind of garage with the door down and the doors in the back closed, probably locked.

Three butch men with tranq guns guarded them while another man and a woman stood a little at the side. Between them they held a man in white shirt and pants who struggled in their grip but couldn't break their hold. He was crying and begging but his two captors didn't pay him any attention.

Dean swallowed, this was so not good, and focused on the three men ushering them forward.

"Attention!" The one to his left yelled, a beefy guy with no neck. "From now on you do what we say. No questions, no shit."

He glared at them for a moment to let the words sink in.

"You get one and only one warning, so you better learn this lesson quickly." He grinned and behind him the two dragged their prisoner forward. "You pull some shit a second time, this is what's gonna happen."

Like a circus director he stepped aside, giving the newcomers a good view on the show.

A collective gasp went through the crowd when the fangs and claws came out.

They froze in terror when the man and the woman ripped the poor guy apart.

"No, no, no, no."

Out of the corner of his eye Dean saw somebody breaking out of the crowd. A young man, maybe even only a teenager. He was knocked down after three steps.

"This is your first warning." The man towering over the teen on the ground snarled. "Now back in line or you're next."

Hands reached for him, pulling him back into the deceiving safety of the crowd.

They had to form a line and were then led through a door. They past the two creatures who still had blood on their faces and hands, the woman was chewing on something she'd ripped out of the body.

The heart, Dean's mind helpfully supplied but he didn't dare to have a closer look.

What came after that was lost in a blur. They had to strip and shower, all together in one big shower room, but Dean's mind was too numb to even register if the person next to him was male or female.

Still naked and in front of everybody Dean had the most humiliating examination ever before he was declared healthy. One woman wasn't declared healthy and she left the room through another door than the rest of them. If that was for the better or the worse Dean had no idea.

The journey ended in a cell with a bundle of clothes slapped at his chest and a shove at his back and then the door locked behind him.

Dean hurried to put the pants and the shirt on, simple white just like the other man had worn before it all had turned red. Then he had a look around.

Pretty much a holding cell like every other one but with even less comfort. Sleeping mats on the floor and a bucket in the corner, charming.

"You can have the place over there." One of the other guys pointed at a free mat.

"What are they going to do with us?" Dean asked in the round. He counted seven other men, all around his age and with similar hair and skin color. Through the window in the front he had a good view into the cell across and less good view into the ones on its sides. More people.

"Not much." The same man spoke again. "When the buzzer goes we have to stand in line and let people ogle us. If you get someones interest they take you out to let them have a better look at you. Some come back, most don't."

"So what?" Dean dropped on his mat. "This is some kind of slave market?"

Nobody answered that one.

Dean was taken out for a better look the second day.

He stood in a small room with bare walls and no furniture and waited for the woman he'd seen on the other side of the glass to come in.

He didn't know what to expect and he shifted from one foot to the other to get rid of at least a bit of the tension building up with every second.

In here he had no chance to escape, he knew that by now. They hadn't been joking with the one warning only. But if he got out of here …

He could overpower this woman, he was pretty sure of that, and once he was free he would call the police down on them.

On the other hand, he doubted they would take any chances. Security might be as tight out there as it was in here and here he at least knew what to expect.

He didn't dare to think about what she wanted with him. Labor or sex were the most likely options, though.

When the door finally opened and the woman stepped in Dean straightened up and with that easily towered over her. Which didn't seem to impress her in the slightest.

"My, you are a handsome boy." She stepped closer, fingertips ghosting over his chest. Dean wanted to push her away but for some reason he couldn't lift a finger to do so.

Up close Dean had a good view on her as well. Not the type of woman he'd find attractive but she was pretty in a natural way. However, her eyes were cold and dead.

She made a full circle around him, examining him from every side. Dean clenched his fists and waited until she stood in front of him again.

"I like what I see." She purred and leaned in, hands resting on his chest and her face buried in the crook of his neck.

Did she sniff him? Dean frowned. There it was again, the telltale of air brushing over his skin and for a second her nose tickled him.

"Uhh." She made and abruptly stepped back. Before Dean realized what was happening she was out of the door. "That one's damaged goods, get me another one."

A minute later Dean was back in his cell and could only wonder how she knew.

The next time they had to form the line Dean kept his eyes fixed on the ground. Only when the man outside turned to have a look at another cell he dared to look up.

And their eyes met.

Tall guy, good-looking. If they'd met in a bar Dean would have bought him a drink and probably would have tried to get in his pants but this wasn't a bar and he wasn't here because it was fun.

Dean didn't back off, though, and the guy broke eye contact first. It was a small victory but it was a victory.

Sure enough he found himself in that little room again only minutes later, waiting for that guy to have a closer look. Anger built up in Dean and he wasn't sure if he would start throwing punches or not this time.

When the guy came in he stayed close to the door and only watched Dean for a moment.

"Do you know what this place is?" The man spoke for the first time.

Dean just stared right ahead and didn't answer.

"It's called the Food Market." The man continued. "Vampires buy their lunch here."

Now he stepped closer.

"This is the supermarket for things that only eat human livers, creatures that think your brain is a delicious slurpee." They stood now face to face. Dean's mind swirled with that idea. He didn't want to but he believed this man. Hell, he'd seen that creature woman chomping on a human heart with his own eyes.

"They all buy their humans here." The man spread his arms. "And if nobody buys you, the werewolf pack running this place will have you over for dinner if you know what I mean." He gave Dean a tight smile.

Dean worked to get this dry tongue back under control.

"So, what gives you the kicks?" He tried to sound brave but all he wanted to do was to close his eyes and huddle up in a corner. He was going to die. Eaten alive by a monster.

"Let me guess." He had only his big mouth left, so screw this. "Big guy like you, you ain't picky, you swallow down a man whole. And not in the good way. Am I right?"

"Actually." The man gave him an amused smile, completely ignoring that Dean was shaking in front of him. "You're right. But we are talking the good way here."

Now Dean blinked in confusion.

"I feed on people, yes, but I don't eat them." A hand landed on Dean's shoulder and when he looked the man in the eye he seemed to be sincere. "I feed on sex."

"Of course you do." Dean blurted out and silently cursed his life.

"I'm making you an offer here. Come with me and have sex with me once or twice a month, I won't bother you the rest of the time, promise." He stepped back with his hands raised. "Or stay here and wait for a vamp to drink you dry. Your choice."

Dean tried to laugh at that but the sound got caught in his sandpaper throat.

"What kind of a choice is that?" He coaxed out.

"You coming with me?"

"Yeah, I'm coming with you." He doubted the guy would keep his promise to leave him alone most of the time but it would get him out of here. Buy him some time to find a way to escape.

"Great." The guy grinned at him and then opened the door. "I'm taking this one."

"Wonderful, Mr. Campbell." A man's voice answered but he was out of Dean's line of sight. "Would that be cash or card?"

The door closed behind Mr. Campbell and when it opened the next time it was a guard with a syringe in hand.


	3. Chapter 3

Sam left the Food Market with his freshly purchased human in the passenger seat and a spell in his pocket.

With only one purchase he could pass up the delivery service the Market offered and he had opted for the less humiliating way to get his human home. Drugged up to the grills the man was too out of it to cause any trouble but there enough to get in the car with only a little help.

"I don't even know your name." Sam said with a wistful side glance at the man next to him. Sleeping with his head resting against the glass of the window and slumped down in the seat he looked peaceful but that was an illusion, Sam knew that.

The man was here against his will and Sam intended to keep him. Even if he wanted to, he couldn't just let him go. This man knew too much about the supernatural community, Sam would endanger all of them, himself included, if he let him go.

Sam parked in the garage under the building and led the man to the elevator. He leaned heavily against Sam and for a moment he feared he would have to carry him but the man stayed on his own legs long enough to make it to the upper floor where Sam dumped him on the couch.

In the seventies they had produced furniture in this hall. After the factory went out of business Sam had bought the building and made it his home. The former producing floor became his kitchen and living area, the office rooms on the gallery became bed- and bathrooms. Lots of space and no nosy neighbors, just like Sam liked it.

While the man slept the drugs off on the couch Sam used the time to set up the spell. He'd never dabbled with witchcraft before but Mr. Briggs had assured him that it would work. They used a similar spell at the Market to keep the cargo under control, Sam still hated that word.

The spell activated with a flash of orange light and Sam could only hope that it would prevent the man from leaving and from attacking Sam or hurting himself like it was supposed to. The only other option was to tie him up during the day while Sam was at work and he couldn't do that. And not only because he wouldn't get what he needed that way.

When the man finally stirred Sam had water and a pill for the possible headache ready.

"Take your time." Sam said when the man struggled to sit up. It was meant calming but had the opposite effect. The man's eyes snapped open and he forced himself into a sitting position at the other end of the couch, as far away from the chair Sam was sitting in as possible.

If he'd trusted his legs right now he would be at the other end of the room by now, Sam had no doubt.

"I apologize for the drugs but the other option was to get you delivered here in a box." He shrugged and pushed the glass of water in his direction. "Are you thirsty? Headache?"

Reluctantly the man accepted the water but didn't touch the pill.

"Like I said, I'm not going to hurt you."

"Then let me go." The man demanded and Sam found himself once again at the receiving end of his glare.

"They gave me a spell that should prevent you from leaving but I've no idea if it works." Sam admitted and nodded towards the elevator in the corner. "Tell you what, try it. If you can leave, you can leave."

The man didn't question it and got up slowly. The drugs still made him slow and it would have been easy for Sam to catch him if he wanted to but what he really wanted to know was if the spell worked. He meant it, if the spell didn't work, the man was free to go. Consequences be damned.

Without letting Sam out of his sight the man went over to the elevator but when the door opened he just stood there. Sam hold his breath.

"I can't." The man finally admitted and his shoulders slumped down. He was only one step from freedom but he couldn't do it, he couldn't cross the line. Sam breathed in relief.

"To be honest I've no idea what I would have done if you were able to leave." Sam said but at the betrayed look he saw on the other man's face he hurried to add: "I always keep my word, I would have let you go but you've no idea what trouble that would have caused in the community." He gestured towards the couch. "Sit down, we need to talk."

For a moment it looked like the man would just stay there, out of stubbornness alone, but his wobbly legs forced him to sit down before he ungracefully fell down.

"What's your name?"

"What do you care?" The man snapped without heat behind the words. His elbows rested on his knees and his head hung between his shoulders.

"I'm Sam Campbell." He introduced himself. "I figured since we're roommates now that we should at least know each other's names." And he'd like to know the name of the man he intended to sleep with on a regular basis but he didn't say that out loud.

Now the man looked up.

"We are not roommates." He spat out the last word.

"You're right. We are not." He had been naive to think it would be that easy.

"You said once a month." The man gathered his strength and pushed himself up again. "Let's get it over with. Where's your bedroom?"

He made it a few steps into the room before he swayed and Sam had to hurry to catch him before he crashed down. With the man's back pressed against Sam's chest he held him upright with strong arms.

"Easy." Sam mumbled and tried to not pay attention to the warm body against his, the firm muscles of the chest under his hands or the globes of the ass against his groin. He'd waited too long for this, the hunger was there and the only thing he wanted to do right now was to bring this man upstairs. Or just back to the couch and fuck him silly there.

But that wouldn't work, not the way he needed it.

"Just do it already, bastard." The man hissed, body rigid in Sam's grip.

In the end it was Sam's hunger that made the decision. He'd wanted to wait, to give the man time to adjust, maybe to even trust Sam a bit before they did this. But now there was only need. He needed to feed even if it was just little bit to take off the edge.

His hand wandered down the man's chest and stomach, flat and smooth under the flimsy shirt.

"Let's start small." He whispered into the man's ear, his hand slipping under the shirt, fingertips caressing the skin just above the waistband.

The man didn't move, didn't say a word. He just stood there and let Sam do whatever he wanted to do.

Sam moved his hand farther down and palmed him through the pants. The flaccid cock didn't raise to the attention, quite the opposite, it seemed to shrivel away under his palm. Sam sighed.

"There is something in my saliva that will get you in the mood." He quietly offered. "May I kiss you?"

The man let out a sob that went through his whole body but then he nodded with determination and angled his head so that Sam could reach his lips.

The kiss was more awkward than anything else but they exchanged saliva and that was all Sam needed at the moment.

Sure enough the man's cock twitched with interest when Sam now ground his palm against the bulge.

"That's better." Sam murmured. It was better and it would feed him, a little, but it was far from good. Far from being the feast he was used to. But that had been with willing partners and not with a man he'd bought against his will.

Sam slipped his hand inside the pants and the man let out a hitched breath but didn't protest.

"Shh, it's okay." Sam lied to himself while he fondled the man's balls. Bringing his other hand down as well he pushed down the pants far enough to have free access.

With one hand he gently rolled his balls in his palm while he started to stroke the cock to full hardness with the other one. By now the man leaned into his chest, weak in the knees by the building pleasure or still because of the drugs in his system Sam didn't want to know.

"Is this good?" He asked but the man didn't answer. His breath came out more harshly by now and now and then his hips bucked into Sam's fist so he figured it wasn't too bad.

Using the perks of his nature Sam knew exactly how this man liked his handjobs and sure enough he had him reduced to a panting mess within minutes.

His head lolled in the crook of Sam's neck and he clawed blindly at Sam in search for support and Sam grinned to that. This could actually work.

His own erection pressed hard against the zipper of his pants and it didn't help that the man ground his ass against him every time he came back from a thrust into Sam's fist. But this was not about his own pleasure.

Sam focused on the task at hand, literally. A little tug at the sac, the right twist in the upstroke, thumb brushing over the head.

"I'm gonna … I'm gonna …" The man writhed in his grip, too far gone to care about the circumstances. One hand found Sam's butt and drew him in, bringing them together even closer. Sam bit his lip and fought against the urge to come right then like a horny teenager.

Seconds later the man spilled his release over Sam's hand. Sam worked him though the shocks, milking every last drop out of him.

"That was good." The man mumbled with a happy sigh. He was completely leaning on Sam now who had no trouble holding the weight.

Sam was still achingly hard but the hunger had lost its edge and that was all that mattered.

He hadn't planned their first time like this so he didn't have a towel handy and had to wipe his hand on his pants. Nor had he planned for them to do it standing and now he had his hands full with the man leaning limply on him.

Carefully Sam tucked him back in and adjusted his hold on him. Then he waited patiently for the man to come back to him. With him feeding on him Sam wasn't worried when it took him several minutes to rise enough to be led over to the couch.

"Why am I so tired?" The words came out slurred but Sam knew what he man was asking.

"I fed on you." Sam answered and helped him lay down on the couch. "It will wear off in a minute."

He was silent for a while and Sam thought he'd fallen asleep. So he almost missed it when the man spoke.

"Dean." He said. "My name is Dean."

"Hello, Dean."


	4. Chapter 4

Dean let himself float in the comfy afterglow of a really good orgasm before reality crashed back in.

He was so screwed. Or more exactly, he was about to get screwed.

At least the guy wasn't hard on the eyes and he had just given Dean the best handjob ever but that didn't change the fact that Dean hadn't chosen to have sex with him.

Judging by the hard line of the guy's cock he'd felt against his ass only minutes ago the man was big all over and bottoming wasn't really Dean's thing even when the cock in question didn't belong to Gigantor.

"I know you're awake."

Dean opened his eyes and looked over to the man who watched him from his place in the chair. This was getting old. Dean set up.

"Are we going to do the second round in an actual bed or are just you going to bend me over the couch?" He asked without looking at him.

"Neither." Sam answered. "I was thinking dinner. Are you hungry?"

"But …" That caught Dean by surprise. "You didn't get off."

"Dean." He let out a sigh and leaned forward. "This is not about getting me off. And I'm not going to just bend you over the couch." He threw his words back at Dean but in a gentle tone.

"I'm an Incubus, Dean. I feed on your sexual pleasure. The more you're into it, the more you enjoy it, the better I feed." He paused for a moment while Dean tried to wrap his mind around the new information. "Me getting off would be a bonus, nice but not necessary."

Dean thought about that. "So what, you jack me off once a month and that's it?"

"Not quite." Sam shook his head. "This was barely an appetizer. I'll need more soon. But that can wait a day or two. To get me fed for real I need a full sex session with you in pleasure for hours. Real pleasure, not only a bodily reaction to stimulation." He spread his hands in a helpless manner. "I won't force you, I wouldn't gain anything from that."

"But you can kiss me to get me in the mood." Dean let his disgust drip into the last words.

At least the guy looked guilty at that. Good.

"My saliva has an aphrodisiac effect, that's right." Sam admitted. "However, it doesn't take away your will, you can still say no."

"Yeah, right." Dean let out a bitter laugh. "I'm just not allowed to say no."

"Not in the long run, no. I don't want to bring you back to the Market …" Sam shifted in his seat as if he was uncomfortable with the way their conversation went. "But you can set the pace, you decide what we do. Look at me, Dean."

He waited for Dean to lock eyes with him.

"I'm an Incubus. I can fulfill your wildest dreams, your darkest desires. If you let me I can be the partner of your dreams."

"If you're such a sex god, why did you have to buy me?" Dean poked a hole into his sweet talk. "You shouldn't have a problem finding somebody to feed on. Try call boys."

For a second it looked like Sam wouldn't answer that one.

"It's always a risk. If somebody finds out I'm not human …" He didn't finish that sentence but Dean had no trouble picturing a mob with pitchforks and torches like in the old Dracula movies. Okay, nowadays they'd come with shotguns but he got the point.

"I knew about the Food Market and I thought I'd give it a try." Sam shrugged. "Being with me beats getting sucked dry by a vampire."

"Yeah." Dean had to admit he had a point there.

"Anyway." Sam stood up. "Dinner? And after that I'll show you your room."

He was going to get his own room?

Dean followed Sam over to the kitchen area.

"I didn't know what you like so I made something simple. You can't go wrong with pasta, right?"

Anything was better than what he'd gotten over the last few days at the Market and with his new found knowledge about that place Dean didn't want to think too closely about the meat they'd been served there.

They ate in almost comfortable silence.

"I'll show you around." Sam put the last of the dishes in the dishwasher and then led the way upstairs to the gallery. There wasn't much to show. This was basically a loft so every room with a door and four walls came as a surprise.

"This is my room." Sam pointed at the door on the left but didn't open it. "And this is going to be yours."

He opened the door and let Dean go in first.

A simple room with a bed and a nightstand. White walls and an industrial window which took up almost an entire wall. The same kind of window he'd seen downstairs with the same boring view. More industrial buildings but none of them close enough for anybody to hear him shouting. If they were even still in use, from the distance it was hard to tell.

"The closet is over there." Sam pointed at the door. "I put some of my sweatpants and t-shirts for you in there. I'll get you your own stuff tomorrow."

_You didn't know the size of the man you'd buy,_ Dean thought but bit back the comment.

"And here's your bathroom."

It was tiny without a window but it had everything a bathroom needed and it looked clean which was more than Dean was used to from the cheap motels he usually stayed at.

"A new razor and a toothbrush are in the cabinet with the towels. Just tell me what else you need and I'll get it for you. Anything, just tell me."

Dean nodded to that and they stepped back into the bedroom.

"The door has a key, you can lock it if you want." Sam gestured over to the bedroom door. "I won't come in without your permission but you may feel safer with the door locked."

Oh yeah, he would lock that door, that was for sure.

"Do you want to turn in or do you want to come back downstairs?" Sam asked already standing in the door. "We could watch some TV together."

"I'll stay here." Dean answered and set his jaw, waiting for Sam to order him to come with him.

"Okay. Night, then." Dean couldn't read his expression but Sam didn't say another word, he just shut the door and left him alone. A second later Dean had turned the key.

Dean sat on his bed for hours and watched the minutes ticking by on the alarm clock on the nightstand.

Considering the alternative this wasn't too bad but he was damned if he'd just sit around and play whore for this son of a bitch.

Around eleven he heard Sam coming upstairs and he held his breath in the dark but the footsteps never came close to his door.

He heard a door open and close and a bit later a toilet flushed and then everything went quiet.

Dean waited until two in the morning before he got up and unlocked his door.

The window in his room didn't open, it could only be tilted and there was no way that he'd fit through that gap but there had to be other ways out of the building.

He couldn't use the elevator but he was determined to at least try every possibility.

Dean tiptoed past Sam's room and down the stairs.

The moon was almost full and through the bank of windows came enough light for Dean to see without using the lights. However, these windows weren't meant to open and had only a tiltable part near the ceiling. The only way through them was by breaking them. Which would wake Sam and Dean still didn't know if he could even climb out with that stupid spell in place.

Only a week ago he'd have laughed about the idea of magic and supernatural creatures, now he didn't feel like laughing at all.

The elevator was the main way to get in and out but in the far corner Dean found the door to the stairs. He could open the door, no problem, but then he stood there and couldn't bring himself to step through.

He stood there for minutes, trying to force his body over that stupid threshold but it wouldn't obey.

Swearing under his breath he stepped back and shut the door.

"Okay, plan B."

Plan B was quickly replaced with plan C because there was no phone or computer in sight. Sam must have taken everything Dean could use to call out to somebody with him in his bedroom.

Dean stood in the kitchen and stared at the largest knife in the drawer.

Force that son of a bitch to let him go or kill him, that was the plan. Except that he couldn't bring himself to take the knife.

"This is stupid." He muttered.

A bowl with apples caught his eye and he wondered. Could he use a knife to cut those?

Turned out he could. He had no problem taking the knife as long as his intention was to cut an apple. As soon as he wanted to take it with him to confront Sam, he dropped it.

Leaning on the counter Dean fought against the tears burning in his eyes, this was not fair.

"You should go back to bed." Sam suddenly said behind him.

Dean's first impulse was to grab the knife but like before his body didn't cooperate.

Defeated Dean made his way upstairs without looking at Sam and locked the door behind himself.

He fell fully clothed on the bed and stayed like that until he finally drifted off to sleep.

Dean woke late the next morning and found Sam already up and about in the kitchen, reading the newspaper.

"Coffee?" Sam asked and didn't mention their encounter last night. "What do you like for breakfast?"

"Just coffee." Dean accepted the cup from him and for a moment they sat in silence.

"You said I could ask for anything." He said carefully, eyes fixed on the black brew in his cup.

"Sure, whatever you want." Sam agreed easily. "Except for your freedom, of course."

"Yeah, of course." Dean huffed to that. Now he looked up, catching Sam's eyes. "I want a phone call."

That wasn't what Sam had expected, that much was obvious, and Dean's lips twitched to that little victory.

"Who do you want to call?" He asked carefully but didn't refuse it right away.

"A friend of mine." Dean explained, gaining confidence with every second Sam was willing to listen to his request. "I was on my way to his place when …" He trailed off. "Anyway, I want him to know that I won't make it any time soon. And I'd like him to get my car, she's still where I left her."

Sam thought about that for a moment.

"Okay." He finally said.

"Seriously?" Dean had to ask. He hadn't thought that it would be this easy.

"Seriously." Sam repeated with a smile. "On speaker and you don't tell him about me, where you are or anything about how you got here."

"I don't even know where I am." Dean muttered. "But yeah, okay." The conditions hardly come as a surprise, he hadn't expected to get the call at all if he was honest so he took what he could get.

A minute later they sat close together, Sam's phone between them, and listened to the ringing.

"You can try again later." Sam offered when nobody picked up at the other end.

_C'mon, old man, _Dean thought but was about to hang up when finally a gruff voice answered.

"Singer's Salvage Yard."


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N** _Because of reasons I'm going to speed things up a little bit. So for now, updates every Monday and Wednesday._

* * *

"Hey, Bobby." Dean said and Sam felt a stab of guilt when he heard the wistfulness in the other man's voice. "It's me, Dean."

"Dean, boy, where are you?" The man on the other end sounded gruff but caring. He had been worried. "I'm waiting for you to show up for two days now. No call, no nothing."

"Yeah, Bobby, I'm sorry about that." He threw a glance at Sam. "Listen, something came up. I won't make it to you any time soon."

"Are you in trouble, boy?" The man instantly offered sympathy but Sam couldn't help but hear an unspoken _again_ at the end of his statement.

"I'm fine." Which was a lie but Dean delivered it. "But I'd to leave my car. Could you bring her home?"

Dean didn't even try to say something fishy, probably because of the fact that Sam had his thumb on the button, ready to cut him off.

Dean only gave the address where the man would find his car, three states over.

"Call me if you need anything else, son."

"I will but maybe not too soon." And with that he ended the call.

"Thanks." He said, eyes fixed on the table in front of him.

Sam had to clear his throat. "You're welcome."

Damn, the people on the Market were supposed to have nobody, loners who nobody would miss. But this Bobby clearly cared about Dean, he'd been worried when Dean didn't show up.

"If you want you can call him again." He offered. It was a bad idea but he felt like he had to offer something.

Now Dean lifted his head and pinned him down with that glare of his. "What for?"

Sam didn't have an answer to that. So he hurried to stand up, nervously rubbing his hands on his pants.

"I'm heading out to buy you some stuff. What do you normally wear?" He gestured at Dean's clothes, still the ones he'd been given at the Market. They didn't fit properly and the cheap fabric was so threadbare that Sam could make out the shade of Dean's private parts if he really looked. Not that he did.

Dean only asked for simple things, his own underwear for example, jeans and shirts. It was obvious that Dean didn't like to ask for basic stuff like clothing but he liked the things he was currently wearing less, that much was obvious.

"I'll be back in a few hours." Sam grabbed his jacket and keys. "Make yourself at home, do whatever you like."

He paused in the open doors of the elevator. "I hate to bring this up."

The way Dean's face become an expressionless mask he knew exactly what Sam was about to bring up.

"Today is Saturday, I've to work on Monday." He cleared his throat again, this had been so easy in theory. "I need to feed before that."

Dean crunched his face. "Could you not call it feeding? Jesus."

"Sorry." Sam answered with a gin and then the doors closed. That last reaction gave him hope. This could work.

Sam stayed out longer than he'd intended – why was it so hard to pick out a pair of jeans for Dean? – and when he came home Dean was nowhere in sight.

"I'm home." He announced and when no answer came, he started to worry. What if Dean had found a way to escape?

Sam fought the urge to run upstairs, if Dean was in his room he didn't want to spook him, and put away the groceries first. He'd bought steak and beer for dinner, maybe a good meal would get Dean in the mood.

Then he grabbed the bags with the clothes and headed upstairs.

_Please be there,_ he prayed silently and knocked at Dean's door.

"Dean?" He knocked. "Can I come in?"

He held his breath while he waited for an answer.

"I got you some clothes."

Sam tried to not show his relieve when the door finally opened.

"Try them on, I can return it if something doesn't fit."

Dean took the bags, over his shoulder Sam saw some of his magazines spread over the bed, and then shut the door in Sam's face.

Sam left him alone for the rest of the afternoon but he couldn't help but smile when Dean came downstairs on his own when it was time for dinner. By then Dean had showered and shaved and was wearing some of his new clothes.

"Hope you don't mind that I borrowed these?" He held up the magazines before he placed them back on the table where he'd found them.

"Dean, I mean it, you can use whatever you want." He made a wide gesture around the room. "Read the books and magazines, watch TV, play some pool."

"Playing against myself is boring." But he glanced at the table in the corner as if he'd like to try a game.

"We could play together." Sam suggested. "After dinner. I don't know about you but I'm starving."

Dean winced at that and Sam just wanted to kick himself. The double meaning was completely unintended on his part but to Dean it must feel like just another reminder of his _duty_.

To escape the awkward situation Sam hurried over to the kitchen area and set a pan on the stove. He wasn't a Gordon Ramsay but what he cooked was eatable and so far had kept him fed, so it couldn't be that bad, right?

"What the fuck, man?" Apparently Dean had other ideas. He snatched the steak out of his hand before it hit the pan.

"What?"

"Do you want to ruin a perfectly fine steak?" Shaking his head Dean shoved him aside and took over. "The pan needs to be hot. Really hot. And you need to start the baked potatoes first, they'll take longer than the steaks."

Muttering under his breath Dean sorted through the cupboards until he found the spices. Sam was degraded to wrapping the potatoes in foil while Dean put together some seasoning for the steaks.

"This is really good." Sam had to admit when he had his first bite later.

Dean just rolled his eyes at him.

After dinner they went over to the pool table for a few games and as many beers. It was a rather relaxed evening and Sam didn't mind at all that he got his ass handed to him.

After their third game Dean finished his current beer in one long gulp and then said out of the blue:

"We could do it tonight."

Sam was busy setting the table for his fourth defeat in a row but now he froze and slowly looked up at Dean.

"You sure?"

"No." He fiddled with the bottle in his hand. "But we're kind of in a good mood here and I want to get it over with." He made a helpless gesture.

"Let me grab a quick shower first." Sam agreed. Dean looked everywhere but him, clearly nervous. "I won't hurt you, I promise."

Dean nodded to that and Sam hurried upstairs for his shower.

He'd still no idea what Dean liked in bed so he cleaned and prepared himself for every eventuality. When he came out of the bathroom, hair still damp and only wearing sweatpants, Dean waited for him sitting on the bed.

"Okay, how do you want to do this?" Dean stood up, a hard look in his eyes.

"That's not how it works." Sam stepped closer, hesitated but then leaned in and placed a small kiss on Dean's lips.

He kissed him again and this time he got a little response. Dean parted his lips and let him in.

They just kissed for a moment. Sam's hands found their way into Dean's hair and to the small of his back and to his surprise Dean stepped closer willingly, catching Sam's leg between his thighs.

"You can touch me." Sam broke the kiss for a moment when he felt Dean's hands hovering over him without making contact.

Dean hesitated at first but soon enough he had both hands on Sam's back, working his way down to the swell of his butt.

"Damn, you are a good kisser." Dean rested his head in the crook of Sam's neck where he placed little kisses along Sam's jaw line. Sam mirrored his actions.

"Ready to take some clothes off?" He felt Dean's erection grinding against him and by now he was tenting his own pants as well.

Dean nodded and Sam helped him out of his clothes. When they were both naked Sam guided Dean over to the bed where he stretched out.

"Beautiful." Sam admired the view for a moment, well-defined muscles under smooth skin dusted with freckles and the perfect cock erect and leaking just waiting for him.

Dean's eyes traveled up and down Sam's body and Sam could only hope that the approval he read in his expression wasn't only in his own mind.

Sam crawled over him and their lips met in another kiss.

"Do you want me to fuck you?" A kiss, tongue brushing against tongue. "Or do you want to fuck me?"

Now Dean drew back and frowned up at him. "That's an option?"

"Of course it is." Sam locked eyes with him. "Whatever you like." Sensing where this was going, he nipped at Dean's throat. "You'd like that? You buried deep in me? Me hot and tight around you? That's what you want?"

Dean managed a nod and screwed his eyes shut when Sam found his way down to his nipple. Sam smiled around the pebbled flesh.

"You like this, too." He searched blindly for the other one and took the nub between two fingers. Taking his time he pleasured the nipples with tongue, lips and fingers before he blew a last breath over the wet flesh, making Dean shiver, and then trailed farther down.

"Sam." Dean breathed out. "Stop teasing." He buried his hands in Sam's hair and pushed him down to where he needed him.

"You want me to blow you?" Sam lifted his head but kept his hands busy stroking Dean's sides and inner thighs.

"Just do it already." Dean bucked his hips in frustration but Sam felt the waves of pleasure coming from him.

"As you wish." He placed a small kiss on the tip of Dean's cock, tasting the precome, and then dove in in one swift move.

"Holy fuck!" Dean cried out when Sam took him to the root. Sam hold him there for a moment, working him with the muscles of his throat before he needed to come up for air. Tuned in to Dean Sam knew exactly how to take him.

"Sam." Dean tried to hold him back. "Not gonna last."

Impressed that the other man was still able to care Sam looked up at him.

"Good." Was all he said before he went back to work. Minutes later Dean came deep in his throat.

Purring around him, Sam swallowed every last drop before he let go of the spent cock and stretched out next to Dean.

"You didn't tell me you could deep-throat." Dean mumbled.

"I did tell you that I can swallow you whole." Sam reminded him with a grin while Dean's hand found its way to Sam's neglected cock. Sam hadn't planned for this but he gratefully accepted what Dean offered.

"I'm not sure if I'm up for more." Dean admitted, hand lazily working Sam's cock.

"Don't worry." Sam kissed him and let himself get lost in the pleasure for a moment. "We have all night."

After Dean's second mind-blowing orgasm, this time buried deep in Sam's ass, taking Sam with him over the edge, Dean was out like a light.

Sam cleaned them up and drew the blanket over them and then just watch Dean sleep.

He could clearly tell when Dean went from feeding indicated unconsciousness to real sleep. That was when Dean became restless. He turned and tossed in his sleep, even whimpered at one point. Just when Sam was about to wake him from his nightmare Dean woke up on his own.

Panting he lay there in the dark. After a minute he stood up, gathered his things and then left Sam's bedroom.

Sam expected to hear Dean's door but instead he heard noises from downstairs. Thinking about the last night, Sam rolled out of bed and went to go looking for him.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean woke up panting and sweating and for a moment he had no clue whose bed he was lying in or who the man next to him was. But he didn't actually care. Nor did he care if the guy was awake or not.

Dean got out of bed, searched for his clothes and left the room as quietly as possible. He needed a drink.

Just like the other night the moon was bright enough to light his way so he didn't bother with the lights. Lucky him, Sam had a well stocked bar. Dean helped himself to a stiff drink – Sam had said he should make himself at home, hadn't he? – and then settled on the couch with the bottle in easy reach. He probably needed more than one drink.

Of course Sam had woken up and joined him before Dean had even finished his second drink.

"I'm sorry." Sam said but didn't take away the bottle. "I didn't mean to make it this bad for you."

"Wasn't you." Dean finished his drink and eyed the bottle but decided against another one. "To be honest, that was the best sex I ever had."

They sat in silence and Dean waited for the questions. If it wasn't the sex, what was it then, but Sam didn't ask.

"So this is it?" Dean let his elbows rest on his knees. "We roll in the sheets once a month and the rest of the time we pretend to be best buddies?"

"Pretty much." Sam took his abandoned glass and poured himself a drink.

"For how long?"

"A while." Sam answered without looking at him.

"You mean forever."

Sam finished the drink in one go and set the glass back on the table.

"Is it so bad?" Sam asked.

"It could be worse." Dean had to admit. "But keeping me prisoner here puts a real damper on the whole idea."

Sam didn't say anything to that but Dean didn't expect him to. There was nothing to say.

"Think you can sleep now?"

"I'd like to sit here for a while."

Reluctantly Sam left him alone and for a long time Dean just sat there, staring at the bottle, debating if it was a good idea to get drunk or not. It was his proven remedy when the nightmares took over but in his current situation it probably wasn't the best idea.

He sat there until the sky slowly turned purple with the rising sun, only then he found his way to bed.

Sam let him sleep as long as he wanted but had coffee ready when he finally came downstairs in the late morning.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked and handed him a cup. "If you feel sleepy, that's normal."

_For after you fed off me_, Dean completed the sentence in his mind and it still sounded wrong.

"Are there any other side effects I should know about?"

"Not really." Sam answered easily. "I'm not taking anything your body can't replace with a bit of time. You'll get used to it and won't even feel anything after a while. As long as your body has time to recover you'll be fine."

"What if you don't give me time to recover?" Dean asked with a challenging eye on Sam.

"You would die." Sam hold his gaze. "But we'll keep it to the bare minimum so no need to worry about that."

After an awkward breakfast, Dean had no idea how to act around the man who'd bought him and with whom he had world shaking sex last night, he declined Sam's offer to spend some time together and excused himself to his room instead.

He couldn't stand it for longer than an hour, though. He stared at the same page of the magazine for minutes without reading it, his mind buzzing with memories.

When he came back downstairs he found Sam lazily stretched out on the couch with his laptop.

"Is it okay if I turn on the TV?" Dean asked after a long moment. He needed something mindless to flood his brain and TV usually did the trick. However, he wasn't sure about the protocol here, he was the prisoner – slave, his mind helpfully provided – and Sam was the boss around here.

"Suit yourself." Sam smiled at him, a little dreamy and with an expression like a cat after it got the cream. Well fed, was the term coming to mind.

This time Dean took the chair and didn't leave it for hours. He didn't care what he was watching as long as it was a constant stream of noises and images overlaying the ones in his head.

He was still tired and at some point he nodded off.

Sam woke him for dinner and after that they had a rather relaxed evening with popcorn, beer and a movie. Dean could almost forget that he wasn't hanging out with a friend but no matter how nice Sam was, he was the one keeping Dean prisoner and that was a fact he could never forget.

The next day was Monday and by the time Dean was up, Sam had already left for work. He had left a note, though.

_Back at 5:30_

_Mi casa es tu casa, I mean it._

_Sam_

Dean made himself a coffee and pondered his options while he slowly nursed the strong brew. When the caffeine started to work, he stood up and put his cup in the dishwasher.

"Okay, you bastard." And with that he searched the whole loft, starting with Sam's bedroom, for something he could use in his advantage.

A way to undo the spell keeping him there would be awesome but he was also looking for any kind of information he could get.

He didn't find anything on the spell, if there was something Sam had taken it with him, but he found out that Sam sorted his clothes by color, had apparently a tie fetish and used shampoo with almond and coconut flavor.

And he had rather large collection of sex toys. Dean whistled when he opened the chest at the foot of Sam's bed. Dildos, vibrators, butt plugs and a lot of other stuff. Some of them stayed a mystery to Dean and if he was honest, he wasn't keen on finding out what some of them were used for.

Given Sam's nature, the collection hardly came as a surprise and he wondered when Sam would bring them up. Dean closed the chest and left the bedroom with an uneasy feeling in his guts.

He had noticed the shelves downstairs under the gallery with books and DVDs before but now he had a closer look at them. Mainly he was hoping for something hidden there. If there was he didn't find it, but he couldn't help but be impressed by the sheer amount of stuff. In the hall of a room the shelves didn't seem like much but Sam must have hundreds of films and books hoarded here. All sorted by author and genre, the movies even by year too as far as he could tell.

"Won't die of boredom, that's for sure."

As promised Sam was back at 5:30 and by then Dean had everything back in order and Sam would never know that he'd snooped around in his underwear, which was also sorted by color and even held a pair of pink briefs.

The days of the first week went by with Dean searching for information while Sam was at work, checking and double-checking every drawer and every corner. Dean didn't know how many hours he stood at the door to the stairs, trying to will his body to make that one step. It never worked.

They spent the evenings and the next weekend together with movies, pool and a game of poker. All in all it wasn't that bad. Sam never touched him and tried to be friendly in a not intrusive way.

Dean even took Sam up on the offer to call Bobby. Just to see if Bobby got his car back home safely but the thing Dean actually needed was to hear his friend's voice. Like the last time Dean didn't get a chance to get out a call for help, though.

After that one chili incident which had left Dean running the whole night – Sam either had an iron-clad stomach or this was the final proof that he wasn't human at all – , Dean had taken over cooking. Out of pure self-preservation.

By the time the second week rolled around Dean had accepted that there was no way out. He couldn't leave, he couldn't harm or threaten Sam, he couldn't even hurt himself on purpose.

Oh, he could cut himself by accident just fine, he'd found out while chopping onions, but as soon as he tried to make the smallest cut on purpose, he just couldn't.

The books and movies kept him busy that second week but one could only read that much at a time.

Dean noticed that the dishwasher made a strange noise and that the faucet in Sam's bathroom was leaking and he was pretty sure with a little maintenance the A/C would work a lot better.

He hadn't seen any tools around but he was bound to this floor and there was probably more in the basement he just couldn't access. So he asked Sam who eagerly brought half a hardware store upstairs at his request. Apparently the whole equipment of the old factory was stored down there. Dean was dying to have a look but had to do with the stuff Sam brought him.

The tools were old and dusty, not used in years, but he got everything he needed to do the various repairs.

After that second week Dean had an even closer eye on Sam than before. As much as he would have liked to pretend that he had forgotten about that one particular bit of Sam's offer back at the market, he clearly remembered him saying "once or twice a month".

And sure enough, the content, lazy Sam Dean had gotten to know right after their night together wore off over time and slowly but surely he became restless, almost erratic.

He wouldn't make it through the whole four weeks before he'd need to feed again, Dean realized.

He almost made it through week three, though.

They had dinner as usual with Sam talking about his day in the office, when all of a sudden Sam said: "I need it."

Dean froze, fork half-way to this mouth.

"Okay." He managed to say, not quit sure how he felt about the fact that he'd just been ordered to the other man's bed.

"In the next few days." Sam added without looking at him. "Just tell me when you're ready."

Dean excused himself directly after dinner and spent the rest of the evening in his room.

He had known that Sam would _ask_ sooner or later and the last time hadn't been that bad, quite the opposite, but still.

Sam needed it and if Dean didn't deliver he would bring him back to the market. Roll over and spread your legs on command or get eaten by a werewolf. Dean didn't like it but he had no choice.

But Sam had also said that Dean had the saying in what they did. That this was about Dean's pleasure. That he was fine with almost everything as long as Dean got off on it. Time to test the boundaries.

So the next day when they'd finished their dinner, Dean cornered Sam in the kitchen and caught his lips in a fierce kiss.

"I take that as a tonight?" Sam asked when they finally parted. Dean licked his lips, willingly dosing himself up with Sam's saliva.

He would have been lying if he denied that he had been turned on before that, Sam was a smoking hot guy, but this surely helped.

Dean grabbed his ass and brought their hips together. Through the denim he felt Sam's growing erection against his own rising cock.

"What would you say." He ground against him, coaxing a moan from Sam's lips. "If I said I want to bend you over the counter, slick up with cooking oil and just take you?" He locked eyes with Sam. He had meant it as a challenge, one he didn't expect Sam to accept, but damn, that thought was hot.

"I'd say you know where the oil is."


	7. Chapter 7

Sam hadn't expected Dean to be so upfront. But he liked it.

So a second later his pants and underwear hung around his knees and he was leaning over the counter, ass up in the air, while Dean just stood there.

However, the second Sam bent over, he felt Dean's pleasure spark so he was pretty sure this wasn't just big talk.

"You getting the oil or do you want to just admire the view?" Sam looked over his shoulder.

"I...I..." Dean swallowed thickly. "I didn't mean to … I don't want to hurt you."

"You won't." Sam assured him. "I don't need much prep and I can feel how much this is turning you on. Just do it."

To his surprise Dean actually got the oil and then Sam felt the slick tip of his cock at his entrance.

Sam braced himself when he felt Dean pushing in and a second later Dean was fully seated inside him.

With no preparation at all Sam had to grit his teeth at the stretch and the burn but it felt good. And more important, he could feel how much Dean liked it.

"Holy shit." Dean whispered, hands loosely on Sam's hips. "Okay?"

"Move." Sam nodded and shoved his ass back to take Dean just a little deeper. "Take me, I know you want it."

Dean didn't respond but his grip tightened and he pulled out almost all the way before he thrust back in. Hesitant, probing.

"C'mon, fuck me for real."

And Dean did. Sam felt bruises forming where Dean's fingers dug in his flesh and the edge of the counter bit into his hip with every brutal thrust. When Sam tried to shift to find a better position, Dean's hand landed between his shoulder blades, holding him down. Sam clawed helplessly at the counter but didn't throw Dean off. This was good, Dean going wild, the burn with every forceful snap of Dean's hips against his. Pinned down and forced to just take it, Sam loved it.

Above him Dean grunted like an animal, a guttural sound that found its way straight to Sam's cock.

There was anger behind Dean's sudden outburst, frustration and fear, and Sam hadn't felt more turned on in a very long time.

"Touch yourself." Dean demanded without losing his rhythm. Sam struggled in Dean's hold to get a hand down to his cock but then it took only a few rough strokes and he cried out his orgasm.

Behind him Dean spasmed and Sam felt him pulsing and spurting deep inside him.

For a second they stayed like that, their heavy panting the only sound, before Dean released Sam and carefully slipped out.

"I'm sorry." Dean stepped back, a horrified look on his face.

"What for?" Sam straightened and pulled his pants back up.

"I didn't mean to …" Dean didn't meet his eyes. "Please don't bring me back to the market."

Sam closed the gap between them in one step, taking Dean's face in both hands.

"Why would I bring you back when I get exactly what I want?"

"What?" Dean blinked at him in confusion.

"I don't mind if you like to play rough from time to time." He traced the outline of Dean's jaw with his fingertips. "In case you didn't notice, I came with barely a touch."

"But I forced you." Dean blurted out.

"First of all, I am the one forcing you." Sam sighed. He didn't like it and most of the time he tried to forget about that little detail but it was the truth. "And second, if I wanted to I could have overpowered you at any time."

"You think?" Dean raised an eyebrow but his cockiness wasn't completely back. There was still wariness and maybe even fear in his eyes.

"Yeah, I think." Sam stepped closer, bringing their bodies and lips together. Then in one swift move he grabbed Dean's ass and lifted him up.

Dean yelped in surprise but then slung his arms and legs around Sam, ankles crossed just above his butt.

"How about we continue this upstairs?" Sam kissed him and when Dean nodded he carried him to the bedroom without breaking the kiss.

When Sam woke up in the morning Dean was still with him in the bed. In fact, Dean had thrown an arm and a leg over him, holding him close, while he snored softly into Sam's ear.

Sam just smiled and didn't move for quite a while.

But it was the middle of the week and he had to get up eventually and go to work. Dean was still too knocked out to do much more than to roll over when Sam slipped out of the bed and Sam was grateful for that. He wasn't sure how the man would react when he found out that they actually had spent the whole night together, naked and curled up like cats in a basket.

Well fed Sam was in for a few lazy days, he even fell asleep in front of the TV that evening, but he still noticed that Dean was getting bored.

The way Dean jumped at the opportunity to change a light bulb was telling but Sam had no idea how to help him. Dean brushed him off every time Sam tried to ask him about his interests and hobbies. When he asked if he should get him something, anything, Dean just shrugged.

Without the option to go out, to use a phone or computer his ways to entertain himself were limited, Sam knew that but he couldn't risk letting Dean interact with anybody without supervision. Even the short phone calls with this Bobby guy were a risk and Sam was actually glad that Dean hadn't asked for another one. There wasn't much Dean could tell that man anyway and Bobby had kept asking questions Dean couldn't – wasn't allowed to – answer.

When Sam came home early one day he found out that Dean had found a way to keep himself occupied. At least for a while.

"What is this?" Sam asked, barely avoiding stepping on that … thing.

"Nothing." Dean hurried to pick it up and then held it awkwardly at his side, almost so far back that it counted as holding it behind his back. "Didn't expect you back so soon."

Sam would have liked to let Dean keep his little secret, whatever it was, but he had to make sure that Dean hadn't come up with something that would help him escape. Sam doubted it but the way Dean tried to hide that thing and the red tips of his ears spoke for themselves.

"Dean." Sam stretched his hand out. "May I have a look? Please?"

Reluctantly Dean handed it over. "Just a stupid idea."

It was pretty neat for just a stupid idea. It was some kind of vehicle, roughly the size of Sam's hand. As far as Sam could tell the body was made out of a small box, something out of the kitchen was his best guess, with little details added probably made of cardboard. It was hard to tell because the whole thing was covered with something that looked like paper mache.

"How did you make paper mache?" Sam knocked his knuckle at the roof and it was as hard as he'd expected it to be.

"Ehm …" Dean shifted uncomfortable and avoided his eyes. "Egg white and toilet paper?

Impressed Sam turned the car around. There were rubber bands connected to the back axis and Sam guessed that was what got it running on its little bottle cap wheels.

"How long have you been working on it?" Sam asked because this was clearly not a day's work. The paper mache alone needed time to dry.

"On this one? A few days." Dean said with forced casualty but then bit his lip when he noticed his slip.

"Thought it didn't look like a prototype." Sam handed it back and Dean took it with shame in his eyes. He wondered what Dean was so ashamed of. The fact that he'd been caught doing something he thought he wasn't allowed to? Or that he was a grown man playing with a toy car? A self-made toy car.

"How far can it go?" Sam asked instead.

Now Dean's face lit up. He turned the back wheels, set the vehicle on the ground and then it went off.

The car made it half-way through the room and Sam couldn't help but smile at Dean's proud grin.

"How about I'll get you some paint tomorrow?" Sam suggested. "It looks only half-done without paint."

"You mean I can keep it?" Dean asked.

"Of course, make as many as you like. I'm happy you found something you enjoy."

"Thanks." Dean smiled at him and that smile just brightened Sam's world.

Dean set the car aside but didn't hide it in his room. Where he probably hid the previous ones, Sam guessed but didn't know because he kept true to his word and never entered Dean's room without permission.

Later when they sat together over dinner, Sam just had to ask.

"How did you come up with the idea?"

"Well … when I spoke with Bobby I remembered something. I can't do the real thing here but … yeah." Dean shifted in his seat, clearly pondering if he should tell Sam or not. "When I was a kid I spent the summer at Bobby's. He let me help in the salvage yard and taught me everything I know about cars. He even let me tinker with old radios and stuff." Dean paused for a moment, eyes glossed over in fond memory.

_That's when the handyman thing started,_ Sam mused.

"Anyway." Dean pulled himself back to the present. "One day I found this remote-controlled car. It was totaled. Took me a while to bring the motor back to life. The plastic body was beyond repair but I built a new one out of scrap metal. Man, that thing was badass." He had a dreamy smile on his lips now. But then his face darkened and he turned his gaze back to his plate, hiding his eyes from Sam.

"What happened?" Sam had to asked and he had to fight the impulse to just hug the other man.

"At the end of the summer Dad came to pick me up." He shoved some peas around his plate. "When he saw it, he got mad. Yelled at me for wasting my time with it instead of helping out Bobby to repay him for putting up with me." The last words came out bitter and with a hard look in those suddenly too shiny eyes. Sam had the suspicion that yelling wasn't the only thing Dean's dad had done. Not that the words weren't hurtful enough on their own.

Now Sam gave in and embraced the other man in an one-armed hug. Dean didn't fight him but didn't lean into him either.

"Thank you for telling me." Sam said solemnly.

Now Dean melted into his side and Sam felt him trembling.

"I know our situation isn't even close to normal or healthy." Sam admitted. "But I want you to be as happy as possible. Build cars if that's what makes you happy. Which is awesome by the way."

"You really don't mind?"

"Why would I?"

"Thank you." Dean whispered and placed a chaste little kiss on the corner of Sam's mouth.


	8. Chapter 8

Dean didn't know why he let Sam hug him, outside of their sex sessions they'd never shown any affection towards each other, and why he felt the sudden urge to kiss the other man, Dean had no idea either.

Then he just did it, placed a little kiss on Sam's lips.

Realizing what he'd done Dean shied back and wound himself out of the other man's arm.

"I'm sorry." He mumbled and fled to his room. Sam didn't call after him, didn't hold him back, probably equally shocked by the kiss.

Why had he done it? Dean paced up and down his room, trying to find an answer to that question.

It had felt right but now it felt wrong and Dean wasn't sure if he'd overstepped his boundaries here. If it had been a sexual kiss everything would be alright, his relationship with Sam was all about sex, but this was something different. However, so was the hug.

And why had he told Sam about the toy car? Okay, he'd left out how John had told him exactly what he thought of his son wasting time with a toy. With his fists. Or how John had thrown a crowbar in his direction afterwards with the snarled order "to take care of that thing".

Dean remembered the hot tears, from the beating and the burning shame, streaming down his face when he'd smashed the car with the crowbar while his dad had been watching from the porch with a beer in his hand.

Dean turned in early but it took long hours before his mind calmed down enough to let him drift off to sleep. The dark memories followed him into his dreams, though.

When Dean woke up the next morning he felt dried tears on his face and a deep ache in his body from the restless night. And he felt a warm body pressed against this back.

Jolting away from Sam Dean tried to get out of the bed but his legs were tangled up in the blanket, proof of his uneasy sleep, and he couldn't get away.

"What are you doing here?" Dean asked hoarsely, the last thing on his mind right now was sex but why else would Sam be in his bed?

Sam had promised, dammit.

"You were having a nightmare." Behind him Sam propped himself up on one elbow. "You were screaming and I couldn't wake you up but you calmed down when I spoke to you."

Dean had the suspicion that there had been a soothing touch involved somewhere too but he didn't want to think about that.

"Why did you stay?"

"You asked me to." Sam answered, still a solid wall behind him and now he felt a hand hovering over his shoulder. Reluctantly Sam touched him there, featherlight as if he wasn't sure if the comforting touch was welcomed or not. Dean wasn't sure about that either but he didn't shrug him off.

"I did?" Bits and pieces came back to him. Yeah, he probably did.

"You want to talk about it?" Sam asked softly.

"No." Dean tensed and waited for Sam to push the subject, to probe and prod until he'd gotten the whole ugly truth out of him. Instead Sam just watched him for a long moment.

"Take a shower, you stink." Sam teased him kindly and Dean was grateful for the change of subject. The hand left his shoulder and Sam rolled out of bed. "I'll make coffee."

This breakfast was worse than the one after their first night together.

Sam had seen how damaged Dean was and even if he didn't ask, he for sure had his suspicions.

And there was the kiss. Dean still hadn't figured out what it meant, if anything, but he didn't mention it and neither did Sam.

Dean breathed easier when Sam left for work.

When his eyes fell on the toy car sitting in the corner he was close to throwing it in the trash but in the end he just put it back in his room. It joined the other two in the depth of his closet and when he closed the door he'd no intention to open it ever again.

For the first time Sam was late this day, he should have been home about an hour ago, and by now Dean was pacing the hall of a living room. What if something had happened to Sam? A car crash or something?

Dean had no way to contact him and now he realized that he could probably die here if something happened to Sam. With that stupid spell in place he couldn't leave and eventually he would run out of food. Hell, he couldn't even kill himself so he would be doomed to slowly starve to death if Sam didn't come back.

"He said he wanted to buy paint." Dean tried to calm himself. "That's what's taking him so long."

Why Sam wanted to buy him paint was beyond Dean, it was for a stupid toy car for Christ's sake. And even if he'd meant it when he'd said it yesterday, after what happened later Dean wasn't sure if Sam still wanted to be nice to him. Maybe he just wanted to avoid him for as long as possible. But this was Sam's home, he would come back eventually, right?

Not if something had happened to him. Or someone.

Dean blinked against the images forming in his mind. This was Sam and not … he was alright.

In the end Dean was pacing the room like a caged tiger with the TV blaring on high volume. It helped to overlay the screams in his head.

It overlaid the sound of the elevator too. Pacing Dean didn't notice Sam at first but stopped dead in his tracks when he made a turn. Sam stood there, a bag dangling from his hand and an unreadable expression on his face.

Dean hurried to switch off the TV. The sudden silence was deafening.

"I … ehm …" Dean rubbed the back of his head. "You're late. Dinner is cold by now."

"I bought you some paint for your car." Sam lifted the bag. "And then I got caught in the rush hour."

For a long moment they just stood there, awkwardly looking everywhere but each other.

What must Sam think of him now? Dean had been freaking out and he was pretty sure Sam had noticed. Hard to not notice that part.

"I'll microwave your dinner." Dean blurted the words out and rushed over to the kitchen. He wasn't hungry anymore but for sure Sam was. Sam followed him more slowly and then just watched him.

"I'm sorry." Sam said when the plate was in the microwave and all they could do was to wait for the _ping_. "I didn't mean to worry you."

"You didn't." Came Dean's automatic reply, a blatant lie, but Sam didn't call him out on it. Instead he stepped closer and embraced Dean in a tight hug. Surprised and not sure what to do Dean just stood there for a moment and let it happen but then he returned the gesture, clinging tightly to Sam.

"I'm here." Sam said in a low voice. "I'm not going anywhere."

Those words shouldn't be so calming, so comforting, Sam was the one keeping him prisoner after all, but it was exactly what Dean needed to hear.

Not letting go of him Sam walked them over to the couch where he guided Dean to sit down.

"What are you doing?" Dean looked down at Sam who was now kneeling between his open legs.

Sam didn't answer, just kept his hands busy stroking up and down Dean's arms and shoulders. It felt good, he had to admit. The tension melted out of his body and he dared to breathe again.

Sam was here, safe and sound.

The hands changed path, now gently stroking is sides and over his chest. Dean wasn't sure where this was leading, or where he wanted this to lead, but he felt his cock twitching with interest.

Dean shifted, his growing erection was literally right in Sam's face, a fact that didn't help him getting his body back under control. Quite the opposite.

Sam seemed to have noticed but didn't comment on it. Instead he let his hands wander farther down, over Dean's hips and the outside of his thighs.

Unconsciously Dean's legs fell more open, giving Sam more room.

"Tell me to stop." Sam said, this thumbs painting little circles on the insides of Dean's knees.

"Don't stop."

That was all the encouragement Sam needed. His thumbs worked their way in those small circles up the inner side of Dean's legs until they dipped in the crease of his groin.

By now the bulge behind the zipper was quite obvious and when Sam mouthed him through the fabric of his jeans, a needy moan escaped Dean's lips.

Sam took his time and pleasured him through the denim until it was soaking with saliva and precome.

"Please." Dean begged, eyes closed and head rolling on the back of the couch. His hands had found their way into Sam's hair, pulling him closer.

Finally Sam came up long enough to open the zipper and to get Dean's cock out. Dean nearly came right then but Sam had a firm grip around the base and just hold him until he'd calmed down a bit.

"You're killing me here." Dean gritted out when he felt the first swipe of Sam's tongue over the tip of his cock. This wasn't like they'd done it before. This time Sam took his sweet time with little licks and kisses, exploring every inch of the shaft.

When Dean felt the heat pooling deep in his belly, the building orgasm sending the first sparks up his nerves, Sam abandoned this cock and went to work on his balls.

Dean whimpered in frustration but could only claw fruitlessly at Sam's scalp while the other man held him pinned down in an iron grip and did whatever he wanted.

Apparently he wanted to suck Dean's balls now. He took one testicle in his mouth, wet and hot, and sucked and nibbled until Dean was a begging mess. Then he turned his attention to the other one.

"Sam, please … I need … please …" Dean babbled, he needed to come. Now.

When he felt the heat of Sam's mouth on his erection once again, Dean cried in relief. Slowly, inch by inch, Sam sank down on him. Farther and farther and then he just stopped.

Dean's eyes snapped open when he realized that Sam had swallowed him whole again. He looked down in awe.

Those shiny wet lips stretched impossible wide around the base of his cock and Sam's upward gaze through his bangs with those big dozy eyes, at that sight Dean was done.

Like the other time Sam held him deep in his throat and milked him with the muscles while he swallowed every last drop of his come. Only then he let go of the spent cock with a wet plop.

In the afterglow Dean sat there sprawled out bonelessly and was content with just staying there for a while. But then he noticed something.

"I don't feel tired." He cracked an eye open to look at Sam who'd come up to sit next to him. He did feel tired like he should after a good orgasm but not as beat as after their previous times.

"I didn't feed on you."

"Why not?" This must have been like free ice cream. Why wouldn't he?

"This was about what you need." Sam shrugged.

"And I needed a blowjob?" He raised a questioning eyebrow to that.

"I'm an Incubus." Now Sam grinned at him. "Sex is my solution to everything."

"What if that doesn't work?"

"Try more sex."


	9. Chapter 9

Sam needed time to think. This wasn't like he'd expected. He had been naive when he'd thought he could just buy himself a person and everything would be okay.

Dean came with baggage, that much had been clear almost from the beginning but after his panic attack when Sam had been late, it was more obvious than ever.

However, Dean had a point. What would happen if for some reason Sam couldn't come back for him?

The next few days Sam thought about ways to make Dean's life less stressful. First of all he made sure that he was home at the time he'd said he would be. Ellen, his boss, wasn't a fan of spontaneous overtime herself so most of the time he knew a day or two in advance when he'd have to stay longer. He talked to Ellen about that, though, and she didn't even asked for a reason, she just promised to keep it in mind and he knew she would and he loved her for that.

Things would be way easier if he just could give Dean a phone but he couldn't think of a way to prevent him from calling out for help. So Sam just made sure that he was home on time and hoped for the best.

"It's finished." Dean greeted him one evening with a big smile and the finished car in hand. Sam almost didn't recognize it. If it had been clearly a toy car the other day, now it was almost a model car.

"It looks great." Carefully Sam took it and had a closer look.

"It's a '67 Chevy Impala." Dean informed him with pride in his voice. "Just like my baby."

Sam felt the sting of guilt. If it wouldn't be for Sam, Dean would be out there, driving the real thing instead of building a model of it out of a box and paper mache. Except that Sam couldn't tell anymore that there was paper mache under the shiny black paint. Dean must have spent hours sandpapering it before he'd painted it.

_Not that he has much else to do_, Sam thought bitterly.

"Show me."

Dean didn't have to be told twice. A second later the car was running down the hall.

"I optimized the engine." Dean commented when the car easily passed the mark where it had stopped the last time. "But there's only that much you can do with rubber bands and a car this size and weight."

Sam nodded to that and just accepted that Dean knew what he was talking about. But it gave him hope that Dean would like the little surprise he'd planned. But first things first.

"I've thought about the other day." Sam started when they sat together over dinner. "When I was late and you didn't know what to do." _When you freaked out_ would have been the more accurate description and they both knew it. Dean was suddenly very interested in his lasagna.

"I've a friend. Benny." Sam continued. "He's a vampire."

At that Dean's fork clattered on the plate and he stared at Sam with wide eyes.

"Please, don't." He begged. "I know I screwed up. It won't happen again. I promise. Just don't do that. Please." There was fear in his eyes.

Sam blinked at him in confusion and it took him an awful long moment until he realized how his words must sound to Dean.

"No!" Sam grabbed Dean's hand and gave it an encouraging squeeze. "That's not what I mean. I'm not giving you to a vampire."

"You're not?" Dean sounded anything but convinced. How could he so easily think that Sam would just hand him over to a vampire?

"Like I said, he's a friend. Actually, I think you'd like him." Sam continued, still holding Dean's hand. "If something happens to me, I get hit by a car or can't come home for any other reason, he will come here and tell you what's going on. You have enough food here to last a few days and he'll bring you whatever you need until I can come back."

Dean still didn't look convinced. "And he … wouldn't he …?" He gestured towards his neck.

"No, he wouldn't feed on you." Sam hurried to say. "We have rules. You're mine. Everybody in our community respects that."

Dean thought about that for a moment. "What if you die?"

"You'd be free." Sam said. "The kind of magic I used for the spell dies with the caster. If I die, it wears off within hours."

"And I could just walk out of here?" Dean asked in disbelief. "What about your community? They surely don't want me to just wander off."

"No, they don't." Sam confirmed. "But Benny is going to claim you. He'll help you out of the city." That part hadn't been easy, it meant a huge risk for Benny, but he didn't want Dean to get killed over this. Not that Sam expected to die any time soon.

"I just have to hope you die, then." Dean muttered, pushing pieces of meat around his plate.

"Looks like." Sam leaned forward and looked Dean in the eye. "The reason I'm telling you this is that I want you to know that you're safe. Whatever happens to me you're not going to sit here, slowly starving to death, wondering if I ever come back or not."

"Thank you." Relief washed over Dean's face and Sam knew he'd just taken off a burden from Dean's shoulder he'd been carrying around since his panic attack, maybe longer.

"Are you done?" Sam gestured at Dean's half-eaten lasagna.

"Yeah." He looked at the cold and butchered leftovers as if he'd just noticed that he'd been attacking them with his fork for a while now. He pushed the plate away.

Sam stood up to clear the table.

"I've a surprise for you."

"Not a big fan of surprises." Dean muttered without looking at him.

"You'll like this one." Sam promised. He scrapped the plates clean and put them in the dish washer.

"Last night I redid the spell." With a big grin he turned back to Dean who still hadn't moved from the table.

"What do you mean?" Dean eyed him sceptically.

"Wanna see the rest if the building? You still can't go outside." Sam hurried to add the last part, he didn't want to give Dean false hope, that would have been cruel.

_And what you're doing isn't?_ A mean little voice in his mind asked but Sam chose to ignore it.

"But you can leave this floor." Sam finished his statement.

"That's your big surprise?" Dean didn't seem impressed.

"This has been a factory for furniture before I bought it. I stored everything in the basement but I never came around to actually clean it out. It's all still there collecting dust. Machines, tools, scrap metal." Sam shrugged but didn't miss the interested glint in Dean's eyes. "Thought you might want to have a look around."

Turned out Dean did want to have a look around. He was out of his chair and at the elevator in a heartbeat.

Sam pretended to not notice the emotions flashing over Dean's face when he crossed the invisible line that had held him prisoner for so long now and stepped in the elevator.

Sam didn't fool himself, the line wasn't gone, the cage was only a little bigger now, he had no reason to feel so damn generous right now but he couldn't help the pleased smile forming on his lips.

Out of the lower floor, it wasn't really a basement even if Sam had dubbed it that way, Sam had only taken over the garage and a small storage room as his laundry room where he also stored everything he didn't want to have permanently in his apartment.

That left more than three quarters of the floor unused and stuffed with things Sam had no use for. But maybe Dean had.

"This is awesome." Dean was like a kid in a candy store. Less than five minutes down here and he was covered in dust and sweat and almost got stuck once when he tried to squeeze behind a machine-part-thingy. Sam had no idea how someone could get all enthusiastic over old stuff like this, however, this was the happiest he'd seen Dean so far so he was the last to complain.

The tour ended in the only not packed to the ceiling room, the former janitor's workshop, the one Sam had raided to get Dean his tools for his various little maintenance jobs around the loft.

Dean braced himself at the workbench with his back to Sam.

"Why are you showing me all this?" Dean asked in a tight voice. Sam couldn't see his face but he saw the tense shoulders.

"All this stuff is just lying around." Sam said with a little shrug. "I wanted to clean it all out years ago but never came around to do it. Now I'm glad I didn't."

He stepped closer and laid a hand between Dean's shoulder blades. The muscles under his hand tensed up for a second but then relaxed noticeable.

"It's yours if you want it." Sam said softly. "Tinker with the machines, built something out of it."

"So you're letting me play with your trash?" Dean turned his head to give him an amused glance.

"I saw what you did with an old box, toilet paper and egg white." Sam reminded him. The way Dean was looking at him he'd done the right thing. "Can't wait to see what you'll make out of this."

"Oh, I have a few ideas." Dean turned around fully and only then Sam realized how close they stood. Dean was practically wedged between him and the workbench.

He should back off, give the other man some room, Sam knew that but didn't move. Dean didn't push him back either and for a long moment they just stared at each other.

Then Dean closed his eyes and leaned in until their lips met.

Stunned Sam just let it happen. Dean's lips on his, the tongue darting forward, tracing the outline of Sam's lips. After a second of hesitation Sam kissed him back. They both knew what his saliva would do to Dean but Dean didn't seem to care so neither did Sam.

Sure enough the kiss turned needy on Dean's part after a few seconds, his hand tangled in Sam's hair and the other one roaming his back, bringing them closer together. Following Dean's lead, Sam let his hands wander and wiggled a leg between Dean's for some delicate friction on their growing erections.

"Dean." Sam broke the kiss long enough to breathe out the words. "We don't have to do this."

"Get your hand on my dick." Dean commanded and smashed their mouths together once again. It was a little struggle to get their cocks out but soon enough Sam wrapped his hand around both of them.

It was fast and dirty and good.

Dean arched his hips, thrusting into the tight tunnel of Sam's fingers and spilled his release. The sudden slick eased the way and now their cocks slid easily against each other and it took Sam only a few more quick strokes and he followed Dean.

Panting they stood there for a long moment, Dean braced backwards on the workbench and Sam leaning heavily on him, hand still loosely wrapped around their softening cocks.

Sam hadn't planned on feeding this soon again but he soaked up what Dean offered. And it was nice to feed without hunger roaring in the back of his mind, he had to admit.

They parted and tucked themselves back in without saying a word and Sam wasn't sure if this was an awkward silence or not.

"Thank you." Dean said and gave him a little peck on the corner of his mouth. Without another word he walked out of the room.

Suddenly Sam felt sick.


	10. Chapter 10

Dean could tell that Sam had fed this time because he barely made it to the couch before he collapsed. He didn't lose consciousness like the previous times Sam had fed off him in those full on sex sessions they had but he felt drained and drifted somewhere on the brink of sleeping.

Here in this numbness of his mind Dean could think about his situation in an objective, emotionless way. Sam could bring him back to the Food Market whenever he got bored of his damaged sex toy. Or he could hand him down to his vampire friend. Hell, he even could just kill Dean if he wanted to.

And Dean with his nightmares and freak outs wasn't helping his situation, he knew that. So it was probably a good idea to compensate that by being nicer to Sam. He'd initiated what had happened in the basement on a whim but the way Sam had responded to that had encouraged Dean. He'd done it as a thank you, as a way to prove that he could give what Sam needed. To make himself useful enough to be kept.

However, in his current state of mind, just letting the thoughts drift by, he could admit to himself that there was more. He'd started to feel something for Sam. And that scared him. He needed to get out of here before it could grow into something.

Sam had followed him upstairs but didn't approach him. Dean didn't open his eyes but through his sleepy brain he heard Sam clatter in the kitchen. Minutes later the rich aroma of coffee reached Dean's nose.

"Espresso?" Sam asked softly and set two little cups on the table. Dean blinked his eyes open just in time to see him awkwardly fiddling with the cups and the sugar and he even had piece of dark chocolate for each of them ready.

Dean came up to a sitting position and he had to admit that some caffeine was exactly what he needed now.

They sat in silence for a moment, sipping their espressos, but Dean could clearly tell that Sam was searching for the right words to say something.

"About earlier." He finally spoke and of course Dean knew exactly what he was referring to. "Why did you do that?"

"Does it matter?" Dean shrugged.

"It does." Sam set the cup aside, in his hand it looked like a little girl's tea-cup and Dean hurried to look somewhere else, he really shouldn't marvel at Sam's long fingers. "I don't want you to feel obliged to do something like that."

Dean let out a humorless laugh. "I am obliged."

"Yeah, you are." Sam raked a hand though his hair, clearly at a loss how to express what he wanted to say. "But you don't have to thank me like that whenever I do something nice to you."

"You liked it."

"I did." Sam didn't look him in the eye. "And I like you. I don't want to reduce you to a mindless sex toy." He sighed. "I know our situation is screwed up …"

"Understatement."

"... but I want you to know that I want you to be as happy as possible. I gave you the basement because I thought you'd like it not because I hoped to get an appetizer out of it."

Dean nodded to that but it didn't change the decision he'd come to earlier. No matter how nice Sam was to him, he was still holding Dean's life in his hands. If somebody's happiness was important here, it wasn't Dean's.

"I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not." It was the truth, he wasn't afraid of Sam per se. He was afraid of what would happen if Sam got bored of him some day. And he was worried about his feelings toward Sam.

Sam didn't seem convinced but he dropped the topic and turned on the TV instead. More to escape the awkward silence than anything else, Dean guessed, but it worked.

Dean didn't actually care what they were watching but after a while the silence between them became more comfortable and in the end they laughed and commented on the stupidness of the show together.

Dean went to bed in a good mood and slept without bad dreams till morning. After Sam had left for work, he went downstairs to have a real look around.

It still felt awesome to just leave the upper floor.

The door of the garage was at the side and he couldn't get through, he'd expected that much. Next he tried the windows. This ones could be opened and were only inches above the ground.

He still couldn't climb out, though. Dean could see the street at the end of the driveway and from time to time even a car passing by. This wasn't a neighborhood were he'd expect people walking by so shouting probably wouldn't get him anywhere. He still tried.

However, nobody heard him. No car stopped or even slowed down.

Frustrated Dean closed the window.

There had to be another way. His eyes fell on the garage door again and he wondered if he could drive out of here. He could hot-wire Sam's car during the night and would be gone before Sam even woke up.

"Yeah." He muttered to himself. "And what if the car can get through but I can't?" The images in his head were disturbing enough to drop the idea immediately.

Dean wandered around the rooms, poking at stuff here, opening a box there, and let his mind just drift.

Even if he couldn't get out, the car could.

In one box he found a collection of old drills. A rubber band car could only go so far but with a decent motor …

An idea formed in Dean's mind.

The upcoming weekend put his plan on hold for a while. He couldn't work on his little project with Sam around, but he could sort through the old stuff. There was a lot of broken junk but he kept most of the tools and the scrap metal.

Why, he'd no idea. If his plan worked he would get out soon and if not he doubted, he would be allowed to go to the basement ever again. Which would be the best case scenario. He refused to think about the worst case. Either way, he would never use any of this stuff but he still sorted it in piles so he could find whatever he'd need later.

Over the weekend Dean tried to act normal while his mind worked on his idea. At least he had a good excuse and could disappear to the basement for hours.

They spent the evenings together with beer and a movie from Sam's collection. There were still quite some left Dean hadn't seen.

Sam was still fed enough that a quick handjob would make him slow and lazy for a day or two, by now Dean had figured out the mechanics behind Sam's need, however, the one time Dean tried to kiss him, Sam rejected him.

Dean wasn't sure what to make out of that, caught between feeling relieved and hurt, but the mood between them stayed light-hearted so he just accepted it.

When Sam left for work on Monday morning, Dean waited impatiently for half an hour, just to make sure Sam wouldn't come back because he'd forgotten something, before he sneaked into the other man's bedroom.

The sex toys were still in the chest at the end of Sam's bed but Dean couldn't tell if they'd been in use since the last time he'd opened the chest or not.

He took one vibrator from the bottom and could only hope that it wasn't Sam's favorite. He would be screwed if Sam noticed the missing toy before he was ready.

Humming the A-team theme Dean stepped in the elevator.

The plan was simple. He couldn't get out but a car could. He just needed something powerful enough to reach the road.

The battery part of the vibrator became the power source for the drill which would be the motor of the car. The thing didn't need to win a beauty contest and Dean had it functional before Sam came home from work.

Over dinner Dean tried to look interested in the story Sam told about his day at work, apparently Ellen had put a customer in his place with some colorful words, and the story would have been funny if Dean hadn't other things on his mind.

He claimed to be exhausted from the work in the basement and turned in early. But he couldn't sleep. He waited for Sam to go to bed and then he hold his breath. Would he notice the missing vibrator? And if so, would he demand to know where it was right now or would he let it slide?

Sam didn't come over and he didn't say a word about missing sex toys in the morning.

Dean finally dared to breathe again when Sam left for work.

Before he did the real thing, Dean wanted to give his little car a test drive indoors. It was basically a board with wheels, the electronics screwed to it and two sticks on top, holding up a paper sign with the words "Call 911, I've been kidnapped!" written on it.

Dean had tied a cord to the rear end so he could stop the car and if necessary pull it back.

The test drive in the living room went well and there was no reason to wait any longer.

Back in the basement Dean opened the window with the straightest view down the driveway. He couldn't reach through the window but he could use a board as a ramp to get the car outside.

"Here goes nothing." Dean turned the battery on and let the car go.

The car covered the first few yards with ease and Dean's heart jumped in his chest. He would get out.

He never figured out what went wrong, if it was a wind gust or the unevenness of the driveway, but suddenly the car tipped and drove on two wheels for a moment.

Dean could only watch in horror, praying it would recover, but in the end it overbalanced and landed on its side.

"Dammit!"

Carefully Dean pulled the cord, this was one reason he'd attached it in the first place, and dragged the car back. It moved a few inches but then stopped.

"You have to be kidding me."

Dean pulled harder. The car didn't move. He couldn't make out what was holding it back, most likely an uneven crack in the pavement, and except for pulling the cord he had no way to get it free. There lay more than enough junk around in the basement but nothing long enough to reach the car.

"C'mon." Dean muttered and gave it a hearty tug. With a soft _pop_ the cord came free, leaving the car behind. "Fuck!"

Dean stared at the loose end of the cord in numb defeat. Hot tears burned in his eyes, this was not fair.

Dean didn't move for several minutes while the upper wheel of the car was still spinning uselessly in the air.

When the initial shock finally wore off, Dean spent the next few hours searching for a way to get the car back inside.

First he tried to rope it with the cord. But he couldn't reach through the window and couldn't throw it properly.

Then he nailed battens and old broomsticks together to make a pole long enough to reach the car.

The first one broke, leaving even more evidence in the driveway, and the second one slipped out of his fingers when he leaned into the invisible wall to push it just an inch farther.

By now there were two improvised poles and his car lying in the driveway and Dean had to admit that there was now way he would get any of it back inside.

In defeat Dean closed the window, cutting off the persistent buzzing of the still running car, and dragged himself to the elevator. He had one chance and he'd screwed it up.

The only thing he could do now, was to wait for Sam.

_Take it like a man,_ his father's voice echoed in his mind. He knew exactly what that man would do in Sam's place.


	11. Chapter 11

Sam couldn't stop thinking about that toy car Dean had built as a kid.

With all the scrap metal Dean had at hand now, maybe he would like to build something similar. Cars were his thing, that much Sam knew by now. He just needed a basic remote-controlled car instead of that rubber band improvisation, which by itself was pretty awesome.

There had to be box sets to build your own cars. He was pretty sure he'd seen stuff like that before. Dean could take the electronics and built his own idea around that.

_I could hit a toy store on the way home,_ Sam mused.

Bad idea, he realized. He would be late and he had no way to contact Dean. The way Dean had freaked out last time was still way too vivid in his mind. Maybe tomorrow? Or during his lunch break? Where was even the next toy store? He'd no idea.

_That's what google is for._ Sam opened a new window, his work could wait a moment, this was important.

"Sam!" Ellen's voice startled him. She sounded as if she'd called his name a few times already.

"Yeah?" He blinked up at her. She stood in the door, clearly in a hurry and a little bit annoyed.

"You have the Connor file ready?"

"In a minute." Sam hurried to tab to a work related window.

"I need it on my desk as soon as possible." She turned to leave but then stopped. "What's up with you lately?"

"What do you mean?" Sam tried to sound casual but his mind was racing. No matter how good he blended in, people became suspicious sooner or later. Usually it was the fact that he didn't age that set them off but he'd been working here for less than three years so he doubted it was already that obvious. Or that he had sex with men on a regular basis but that had become less of a problem over the last few decades.

"You look like you've the worst stomach bug ever." She said with a grin. "Or like you're madly in love."

"I … ehm …" Blindsided Sam didn't know what to say. "I may have met somebody?"

"No way." She leaned more comfortable at the door frame. "Mister I-roam-the-clubs-for-a-one-night's-fun has met somebody."

Sam hadn't made his lifestyle a secret, at least not that part, so everybody at the office knew he was gay and loved his freedom. It had never caused a problem.

"Details, son."

Sam couldn't help but smile to that. However, he had no idea what to tell her. _I bought him to have a convenient chew toy_ didn't seem the right thing to say.

"Well …" Where should he begin? "He's gorgeous, he's witty, he can cook and he's quite handy."

"In bed or outside?"

"Ellen!" He gasp in fake outrage but added with a grin. "Both."

He cleared his throat. "In fact, I was just searching for the nearest toy store. He likes to build own bodies for cars. Remote controlled cars."

"Try the store on the third." Now Ellen's smile grew wider. "They have everything. Is this a birthday present or something?"

"Or something." Sam answered while he realized that he'd no idea when Dean's birthday was.

She smiled at him but fell silent for a moment before she continued, now sounding wistful and far away. "My brothers always got things like that for their birthdays but they never let me play with the cars. Cars are not for girls." She said the last part with disdain clearly in her voice. "They never figured out why the batteries died so often over night."

She winked at him but then the moment was gone and she tapped the door frame impatiently.

"The Connor file. Now."

"Yes, Ma'am."

Sam skipped his lunch and headed for the toy store instead. Dean would have dinner ready when he got home anyway and more often than not Sam would have liked to eat more just because whatever Dean cooked, it was delicious. So one missed lunch wasn't that bad.

He only hoped that Dean would like the present he had in mind and wouldn't jump to the conclusion that he had to repay Sam for it.

Waiting at a red light Sam had time to think about his relationship with Dean. He liked the man, he really did, and it may even be more than that. How had Ellen phrased it? Madly in love. He wasn't sure if that term was correct but he wanted to see Dean happy. As happy as he could be in his situation. What he absolutely didn't want was Dean offering sex for everything nice Sam did for him.

He knew it wasn't easy to draw a clear line here because he needed sex with Dean, that was the very reason Dean was with him in the first place, but he didn't want to reduce the other man to that.

Sam sighed.

The store was hard to miss with its huge blinking sign on top and Sam wondered how he could have missed it for so long. But he'd never been interested in toys before. When he entered the store he remembered exactly why he hadn't been in a toy store in ages.

It smelled like plastic and things were making noises and blinked, they should put an epileptic warning at the door, seriously, and everything was just too bright and colorful. At this time of the day the older children were still in school but the store was packed nevertheless. Stressed parents with little ones, stressed parents without little ones and the occasional grandfather who stood lost and overwhelmed in the middle of the chaos with a piece of paper in his hand looking for that one toy he couldn't even pronounce. Sam could relate. At least he had an idea what he was looking for.

To find the section with the toy cars was another thing. At first he took the wrong aisle and ended in doll nightmare. Hundreds of dolls stared at him from the shelves, five rows up and miles long.

"Mommy, I want that one." A little girl pointed at one of the dolls, the most pink one in an ocean of pink.

"This one, honey?" The mother obediently picked that thing from the shelve. "She's adorable."

How anybody could find this abominations adorable was beyond Sam and he hurried to leave the aisle.

Just to end up in the clown section.

Sam stopped dead. With wide eyes he took in the army of clowns in front of him before he turned around and headed back to the safety of doll nightmare. He felt their unblinking eyes on him and he wondered if they would hand him over to the clowns. It was stupid, he knew that, but he breathed easier when he left the doll section entirely.

It took Sam a while but in the end he found the remote-controlled cars. Sports cars, trucks, crossroad things that didn't even look like cars anymore.

The assortment was as overwhelming as in the doll section but less frightening, not that he would ever admit that. At the end of the shelf he even found box sets to build your own car. He would have liked to just get the basic, a motor on wheels or something, he had no clue if something like that even existed, but this would do. Dean could just ignore the body that came with the box and built his own.

Sam chose one of the smaller ones, he didn't want this to become a big present, just something to bring along. Which reminded him that he really should asked Dean when his birthday was. He could get him something bigger for that. Dean would feel less obliged if there was an actual reason for a present. At least Sam hoped so.

He had no intention to bring Dean back to the Market. After he got to know Dean the thought alone made him feel sick, but he also knew that to Dean that would always be an option. No matter how often Sam said otherwise, Dean had to live in constant fear of that. Sadly Sam had no idea how to convince Dean that he would never hurt him. And bringing him back to the Market would mean his certain death. He couldn't do that. Never.

So he took the little car and went to search for the exit of this place. He had to hurry if he wanted to get back to the office in time.

To Sam the end of the workday couldn't come fast enough. He wanted to see Dean's face when he gave him the car. Would Dean like it or would he throw it back at him? The longer he thought about it the more unsure Sam became about this.

He drove home with mixed feelings.

When he turned into the driveway leading up to his place he was so engrossed in his thoughts that he nearly missed the things lying around. He almost ran over the vehicle lying on its side but he managed to hit the breaks in time. Barely.

"What the …?" Sam hurried to get out of the car to have a closer look. It was another toy car. With a real motor this time but no actual body. Instead it had a sign on top.

_Call 911_

_I've been kidnapped!_

"No, no, no." Sam muttered, raking a hand through his hair.

Dean had tried to call for help.

The fact that he'd done it didn't come as a surprise, it still hurt, though. What wrenched Sam's guts was how close Dean had come to accomplish that task. Looking around Sam pieced together what had happened here. If the driveway had been a little more even, if the car hadn't toppled over, if Dean had managed to retrieve his car afterwards.

What-ifs were swirling in his mind, making him dizzy.

Sam left his car in the driveway and ran the last bit.

Where was Dean?

Sam had a quick look around the basement but Dean wasn't there. Instead he found the slaughtered remains of something silicon on the work bench. For a moment Sam just stood there and tried to figure out what the lime green thing had once been and what it had to do with Dean's escape plan.

"A vibrator?"

Dean had taken one of his toys and had slaughtered it. A penis-shaped toy associated with Sam.

The implications hit him like a sledge hammer. This and the call for help.

Sam had to hold on to the door frame, he just felt sick. He tasted bile in the back of his throat and his vision grayed around the edges.

He still held Dean's car in his hand and he felt the wooden board splinter in his grip.

"What have I done?" He whispered but the basement stayed silent and didn't provide an easy answer. He needed to make sure that Dean was still there so he slowly made his way over to the elevator.

Emotions flooded his brain, his body practically vibrated in that maelstrom. He was angry. At himself, at Dean, at the situation in general. Frustrated. Ashamed. Too much, too many to put names on all of them.

He couldn't remember pushing the button but all too soon the doors opened and Sam stood in his loft.

Dean was still there. He stood at the far end of the hall they called their living room, as far away from the elevator as he could get without plastering himself at the wall.

Dean's eyes darted to the car Sam had clutched in his hand before he straightened himself and looked him in the eye with a blank expression which didn't cover up the fear beneath it.


	12. Chapter 12

**A/N** _For now this is the last Monday chapter. With the upcoming NaNoWriMo I can't keep up with the two chapters a week. Don't worry, you'll still get the chapters on Wednesdays._

* * *

Most of the time Dean could almost forget that Sam wasn't human.

The thing coming out of the elevator now wasn't human at all. It looked human as it had a human shape but it obviously wasn't.

Dean couldn't really put his finger on the difference, though. This Sam seemed bigger, darker and his eyes were old and cold.

Fighting the urge to back off farther Dean forced himself to look this creature in the eye. If this was how it was going to end, so be it. He wouldn't beg.

For a long moment they just stared at each other before Sam slowly came closer. He stopped at the couch table to put down the car, of course he'd found it, before he closed the distance between them.

At arm's length he came to a halt and Dean fixed his eyes on his left shoulder. Neither of them said a word. Dean probably should say something, explain himself, say that he was sorry but he couldn't bring the words through his too tight throat.

"Dean." The thing said and made one more step towards him. Now he did back off until he was plastered against the wall. With the stupid spell in place he couldn't even defend himself. He wanted to push Sam, to punch him in the face but all he could to was to fruitlessly clench his fists.

"Make it quick." His own voice sounded strange in his ears and he closed his eyes.

He had expected to feel Sam's hands closing around his throat or a fist to the face but instead Sam flinched back as if he'd been hit.

"No!" Sam brought some distance between them, fisting his hair with both hands and a horrified look on his face. Then without another word he stormed upstairs and slammed his door.

Dean just stood there dumbfounded for a long moment. Sam hadn't killed him on the spot but he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Maybe Sam was already on the phone with the Market to bring him back.

With his back to the wall, literally, Dean slit down until his butt hit the ground with a thud. He let his head fell back, silent tears running down his face.

Sam didn't come back downstairs and Dean wasn't sure what to do. His eyes fell on the abandoned car on the table. He could tell where Sam's hand had been, the imprints of his fingers clearly visible in the splintered wood. Sam could have killed him with his bare hands and Dean wondered why he hadn't.

Maybe he would get a second chance. Not that he deserved one. But he dared to hope.

Should he go upstairs to apologize? Promise he wouldn't do something like this again? Beg for forgiveness?

Almost an hour later Sam still hadn't left his room.

Slowly Dean came to his feet and made his way upstairs. In front of Sam's door he hesitated but then he took a deep breath and knocked. He had nothing to lose anyway.

"Sam?" He asked through the closed door when there was no answer. "I'm sorry."

Dean wasn't sure if Sam had even heard him, there was absolute silence behind the door, and he pondered if he should just enter or better retread to his own room to wait for things to happen when suddenly Sam opened the door.

"Don't be." He said in a tone Dean couldn't place. Sam had changed into tight jeans and was in the middle of buttoning up a dark blue shirt that hugged his chest quite nicely. This was not the casual way he usually preferred for the evening.

"I can't do this. Not now." There was a haunted look in Sam's eyes when he pushed past Dean. "We'll talk tomorrow."

He was half-way at the elevator when Dean caught up with him.

"Where are you going?" He had no right to ask but he needed to know.

"I need to feed." Sam rubbed his face, looking haggard and weary as if he had aged over the last hour. "Now."

"But I …" Dean swallowed thickly. "I'll do it. Give me a chance. Please."

"We're both in no condition to do this right now." Sam sighed, clearly in a hurry to get out, to get away from Dean, but he didn't step in the car when the door opened. "I'm not mad at you."

"You're not?" Dean dared to hope again.

"No." He even managed a little smile. It was too tight and too forced but it was a smile. "I'm actually impressed. But this has burned me out and I can't … I can't think straight. I need to feed, we'll talk in the morning."

With that he stepped in the car and when Dean tried to hold him back he hit the invisible wall once again. Sam must have redone the spell.

Dean watched the doors closing and then he was alone. He didn't know what to make out of the situation. Sam had said he wasn't mad but at the same time he had rejected Dean and went out to feed on somebody else.

Dean waited. There was nothing else he could do.

He sat on the couch and waited for Sam to return. If he returned. He had said so but Dean wasn't so sure about it this time.

However, this time Dean couldn't bring himself to care. For a brief moment he wondered who the man might be Sam was with right now but that thought drifted into nothingness as well.

His mind floated in a numb, careless space.

He sat there for hours, twilight turned into night without him noticing.

Then, finally, the elevator moved.

"Why are you still up?" Sam asked without turning the lights on. He sounded tired and wrecked.

Dean stood up to face him but had no good answer to his question.

"I'm sorry." He said instead, fully aware of how pathetic he must sound.

"I'm the one who should say that." Sam answered. "Dean, I am sorry. For all I'm doing to you. And we need to talk but can we do this tomorrow? When we've both slept and cleared our minds?"

Dean wasn't sure if he could sleep. Or wanted to. He already felt the nightmares just waiting to claw their way into his mind while he slept and the last thing he wanted to happen was to wake up screaming with Sam rushing to his side. It had been embarrassing enough the few times it had happened before but tonight? Maybe he should just stay up the rest of the night.

"Sure." He brought out the word with some delay and he felt Sam watching him. He wondered what was going on in the other man's mind.

"Do you want to sleep in my bed?" Sam asked in a low voice. Low enough for Dean to wonder if he'd heard correctly.

"If you want me to." Dean stepped closer. This was probably his last chance. He leaned in to kiss him but Sam stopped him with both hands on his shoulders.

"Just sleeping." Sam corrected. "After a stressful day you seem to sleep better with me around." He paused. "If you can still stand being that close to me, that is."

Dean frowned at him, was there a hidden meaning he was missing?

"You mean the nightmares." Dean avoided his eyes.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of." His hands moved from Dean's shoulders to embrace him in a hug. Hesitant at first but when Dean returned the gesture, Sam tightened his hold.

"It's okay." Sam mumbled into the crook of Dean's neck. Dean doubted that but he took what he could get.

They went to their own rooms to change into sleepwear and for a long moment Dean wasn't sure if he had the courage to go over to Sam's room. In the end he didn't have the courage to not go over.

Stiff like a board he lay next to Sam, their bodies far enough apart to not tough. It was way after midnight and Dean felt beyond exhausted but he was wide awake.

By now he had a good grip on Sam's condition, he could tell when he was running low and would have to feed soon, and now he could clearly tell that whatever Sam had done with the other guy had been just enough to get the edge off. A day maybe two before he would have to feed for real.

Dean just wasn't sure if he would still be there to help him out by then.

"I went to a club." Sam suddenly broke the silence. Looked like he couldn't sleep either. "I was a regular there before I met you."

Dean didn't answer and just waited for Sam to continue. Why was he even telling him this?

"Didn't take long to hook up with a guy. Took him outside and fucked him in the back ally between some dumpsters."

That didn't sound romantic at all but it still gave Dean a jealous sting in his chest.

"Tall guy, well built with short spiky hair." Sam continued in a flat tone. "I turned him around so I couldn't see his face and fucked him from behind. I pretended it was you."

Sam fell silent.

"You didn't want me." Dean reminded him in a low whisper and then turned to his side to face him. "You could have me now. You could fuck me like you fucked that guy."

Sam turned as well and now their faces were only inches apart. In the darkness Dean couldn't make out his expression but he felt Sam's breath hot on his lips.

"No." Sam reached out to stroke Dean's face. A gesture more gentle than he'd expected. "That's why I couldn't do it with you. I was starving and an emotional mess. It would have been punishment for you."

"I deserve it." He did. After what he'd done he deserved much harsher punishment than a rough fuck. Once again his father came to mind but Dean pushed that thought back into the depths of his mind.

"For what?" Sam asked. "For being desperate? For wanting to be free? For being creative?"

"For disobeying?" Dean countered. "For being ungrateful? For betraying you?"

Sam sighed. Maybe he'd finally realized how much of a failure Dean was.

"Dean, I'm the one keeping you prisoner here."

That wasn't what Dean had expected to hear.

"I said I won't ever hurt you and I'm keeping my word." His fingers wound their way in Dean's hair but it didn't hurt, quite the opposite. It felt nice and Dean dared to lose himself in that feeling for a moment. "And for sure I won't punish you for trying to escape."

"So you won't bring me back to the market?"

"What?" He sounded confused as if that thought had never crossed his mind. "Dean, I would never do that to you. No matter what. You hear me? I'll never hurt you and you're not going back there. Never."

Relief washed over Dean and tears pricked in his eyes.

"Shh, it's okay." Sam drew him closer and Dean hugged him back. Finally the tension melted out of his body and he couldn't hold back the sobs anymore.

With his face buried in Sam's chest Dean cried himself to sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

Sam knew Dean suffered from nightmares. He didn't know what exactly had happened to the other man but by now he knew when the bad dreams were most likely to hit.

The worst one so far had occurred after Dean had told him about the toy car he'd built as a kid. And how his dad had not approved.

But there were other occasions. Dean was more likely to have nightmares after they had sex, even if he insisted that the sex with Sam was awesome, or when he was under stress, the panic attack when Sam had been late came to mind.

However, if it wasn't for their sex sessions Dean slept in his own room and Sam only caught on to the really bad ones so he had no idea how often Dean actually suffered from them.

To say that Dean had a stressful day today would be an understatement and if he was honest, Sam had handled the situation quite poorly. Leaving Dean alone had been a bad idea but at that point he didn't have another choice. If he'd stayed he would have fed on Dean and in his mental condition that would have done more damage than leaving. For both of them.

Sam was just grateful that Dean still trusted him enough to sleep in his bed, although Sam wasn't entirely sure if he did it out of a feeling of obligation or not.

Dean cried himself to sleep, clinging to Sam, while Sam drew firm circles on his back and hushed him with soft words.

It hardly came as a surprise when at some point during the night Dean became restless. It was the reason Sam had offered his bed in the first place.

Sam woke from the light slumber he'd drifted off to when Dean started to mumble in his sleep. He couldn't make out words, if this even were words and not just guttural noises of discomfort.

"Shh." He drew Dean closer in, holding him tight. "You're safe. It's okay."

Sam started with the gentle circles on Dean's back again and combined with his low voice it helped to calm him down. At least for a while.

The nightmares were never far and each time they became more intense and it took Sam longer to calm Dean down.

Around five in the morning Dean started to move again while he whimpered in his sleep and now some of the words became audible, _no_ and _stop_ and _don't_ and _please_.

Sam still didn't know what had happened to Dean but this was enough to draw an ugly picture.

_As if you're any better, _he thought bitterly but forced himself to focus on the trembling man in his arms.

"No!" Dean screamed and broke Sam's hold on him with a fist to Sam's face.

"Dammit." Sam muttered, for being asleep Dean threw quite a punch. Rubbing his jaw he gave Dean some room, he wasn't keen on tasting that fist again.

"Dean." Gently he tried to wake him, by now Dean had worked himself into a fight with an invisible enemy and Sam feared that Dean would hurt himself or fall out of bed with his tossing and turning.

"Dean, wake up." Louder now but Dean didn't react.

"No, don't!" Dean yelled, shielding his head with his arms. "Please."

"Dean!" Sam was yelling now too but Dean didn't wake up.

Sam grabbed his shoulder to shake him awake but that didn't end well. Dean screamed like he'd been hit and aimlessly tried to get away.

Sam didn't want to slap Dean, that was the last thing Dean needed right now, so he did the only other thing he could think of. Ignoring Dean's fighting Sam threw one arm over him, pinning his arms to his sides and with the other one on Dean's forehead he held his head still. Then he brought their lips together.

It wasn't kissing on Dean's part, God only knew what his nightmare mind made out of this, but Sam forced his way in and dosed him up with his saliva.

It took only a few seconds to take effect.

The screaming stopped and Dean finally relaxed in his hold.

"See?" He stroke the sweaty hair out of Dean's face. "That's better."

Dean still didn't wake up but judging by the noises coming from him now, his dream had become way more pleasant. He actually snuggled closer to Sam, his erect cock now a firm line against Sam's hip.

Sam lay perfectly still, he didn't want to take advantage of Dean, not now, not like this, but he couldn't help it and soaked up the waves of pleasure coming from the other man.

Earlier with that stranger he'd met at the club Sam had fed. However, everything coming from Dean tasted so much better. They would have to do the real thing soon and Sam was looking forward to it with mixed feelings. He feared how Dean would react to that, to him.

The butchered vibrator came to mind. The rational part of his mind tried to convince him that Dean had just needed the part inside but he couldn't shake off the uneasy feeling when he thought about what Dean had done to something that symbolized his penis.

For now Sam tried to let go of the unsettling thoughts and to focus on Dean who lay pressed against him, unconsciously seeking some friction, while Sam's own cock tented his underwear. Sam didn't touch Dean and he didn't touch himself. Neither of them got off that night and when they woke up in the morning neither of them was well rested.

"Morning." Sam murmured when Dean blinked his eyes open, lying with his head on Sam's arm. Said arm had gone numb hours ago but Sam didn't have the heart to push Dean away.

Now, finally awake, Dean realized how tangled up they lay together and rolled to his back to bring some distance between them.

"How do you feel?" Sam asked when Dean just stared up at the ceiling. With pins and needles the blood rushed back into his arm but he ignored the feeling for now.

"Good." Came Dean's hoarse answer.

Sam glanced at the alarm clock on the nightstand and sighed. He was already late for work.

He should get out of bed but he didn't want to leave Dean too abruptly, he didn't want him to get the wrong impression, and the thought of leaving Dean over the day caused an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"You know what." Decision made he propped himself up on one elbow and reached for his phone he'd left on the nightstand. Stupid, he should have locked it away over night.

"I'm calling in sick. We have some things to sort out."

Out of the corner of his eye Sam saw Dean swallowing thickly but he didn't say anything.

"Morning, Ellen." Sam said when she picked up. "Sorry to bother you this early but I think you jinxed me with that stomach bug line yesterday. Believe me, you don't want me in the office today."

This was the first time he'd ever called in sick and Ellen believed his lie without batting an eye.

She told him to stay in bed, to drink a lot and that he shouldn't dare to show his face before Monday. Thanking her he ended the call.

"So, you're going to stay home today." Dean said in a low voice without looking at him and in a tone Sam couldn't quite place. Wary, maybe even fearful. For sure not a tone he wanted to hear from Dean.

Sam put the phone back and turned towards Dean.

"How about we both take a shower and then meet downstairs for breakfast?" He suggested. "We need to talk."

Dean nodded to that and then rolled out of bed. He was out of the room a second later and Sam pretended that it didn't hurt that he was so eager to get away from him.

However, with the failed attempt to escape yesterday and a night full of nightmares, it wasn't unexpected. It still hurt, though.

"What a mess." Sam sighed and flopped back into his pillow, arm thrown over is eyes. Then he forced himself out of bed, he wanted to at least have coffee ready before Dean came downstairs. Not that he expected him to hurry, quite the opposite.

Sam had more than enough time for a quick shower and to make the coffee and when Dean still wasn't there he went to get the shopping bag out of the car. It seemed an eternity ago when he'd been browsing the toy store to get the perfect car for Dean.

When Dean finally made his way downstairs Sam had the coffee ready and the bag on the counter. He still wanted to give Dean the car and maybe the gesture would help Dean to understand that nothing had changed. Sam wasn't mad or angry.

Dean kept his gaze downcast but accepted the steaming mug with a mumbled "Thanks".

They fell into an awkward silence, Sam had no idea how to address the things he wanted to say.

"I'm sorry." Dean broke the silence, eyes still fixed on his coffee.

For a second Sam closed his eyes while he took a deep breath.

"I didn't have the chance to give you this yesterday." Instead of telling Dean, again, that there was nothing to be sorry for, Sam reached for the bag. "Thought you could leave the plastic body and built something from scratch."

With a spark of curiosity in his eyes Dean took the box out of the bag.

"Thanks." Dean's voice was thick with emotion. "But that has lost its point now, hasn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"Unless you want to haul the workbench and the welding equipment up here …" His voice drifted off.

"Dean." Sam took the box out of his trembling fingers and took Dean's hand in his. "You're getting the basement back, I promise. I just have to figure out a way …" Now it was his turn to leave a sentence unfinished but he had no idea how to put his intentions in words. He wanted Dean to work down there but he couldn't risk something like yesterday happen again.

"Why?" Dean looked up at him and Sam saw something like hope in his eyes.

"Nothing has changed, Dean." Sam searched for words. "What you did yesterday … you had to try, I get that. There is nothing wrong with that."

He paused.

"I know this is fucked up, believe me, I know." Sam let out another sigh. Dean's hand was still in his but now Dean's thumb painted little circles on the back of his hand as if it was Sam who needed reassurance. "But I want you to be happy, as happy as you can be in this situation, and for sure I don't want you to be afraid of me."

"I'm not." Dean said and it didn't sound that much of a lie as it would have had only hours ago, Sam was sure of that. Because of that fragile trust he read in Dean's eyes Sam chose his next words very carefully.

"You don't know much about our community here." Sam said, a watchful eye on Dean. Instantly he felt him tense but Sam held on to his hand, keeping the contact.

"Yeah?"

"You remember Benny?" Sam asked.

"Your vampire friend?" Of course that was what Dean remembered about the man, the vampire part, not that he was the backup plan in case something happened to Sam.

"I'd like to call him." Sam said. "Ask him if he could come over after work."


	14. Chapter 14

**A/N **_I'm crazy. I've decided to use NaNo to finish this story before I throw myself into the one I've planned for November. 150k is doable, right?  
_

_This means I have enough chapters to keep posting twice a week. I'm just not sure if I've the time for that during November. But we'll see._

* * *

Dean wanted to believe Sam, he wanted to believe that nothing had changed.

Dean still wasn't sure how he felt about the fact that Sam had eaten outside, so to speak, but Sam had offered his bed and he had helped him through the night. As embarrassing as it was, Dean was grateful for that.

Then Sam had given him the car he'd bought for him and he had promised that Dean would get access to the basement again. After he'd found a way to prevent Dean from pulling something like that little stunt again.

Dean got that. He was Sam's prisoner, slave, and he understood that Sam had to keep him from calling out for help.

What he didn't understand was why Sam even bothered with the basement. It was a proven fact that Dean was safely locked up upstairs, so why would he risk it? Especially after what had happened yesterday?

"I know this is fucked up, believe me, I know." Sam said and wasn't that the understatement of the year? But he sounded sad saying it as if he felt truly sorry for Dean's situation. "But I want you to be happy, as happy as you can be in this situation, and for sure I don't want you to be afraid of me."

Dean wasn't afraid of Sam, that was the truth. Even facing that thing last night, the thing that wasn't human, hadn't changed that. Dean had been prepared to die by Sam's hands, yes, but he hadn't been afraid. He would have accepted his punishment.

But Sam didn't want to punish him. Instead he gave him a present. And Dean dared to hope.

Then Sam wanted to invite his vampire friend over. For a long moment Dean didn't say a word, his mind racing with possibilities. Why would Sam want to have his friend here? Why now?

Maybe he wanted to punish him after all? Or was he supposed to make amends by being _nice_ to Sam's friend?

"What …" He needed to clear his throat and for some stupid reason they were still holding hands. Dean wanted to draw his hand back but didn't. "What do you expect from me?"

"Nothing." Sam hurried to say but then frowned at him. "Dean, whatever you're thinking. No." Sam's hands tightened around his but it wasn't painful, more on the reassuring side.

"You know … if you want me to … I would … you know … just tell me what to do …" Ashamed he lowered his gaze.

"Dean, I'm not pimping you out to my friend." Sam said in clear shock. "How can you even think that?"

"Why do you want him here, then?" Dean burst out, harsher than intended.

"I want you to realize how big our community really is." Sam said with a sigh. He did that a lot lately. "He comes over, we talk a little, he leaves, that's it. He's not going to feed off you and for sure you don't have to have sex with him." He sounded disgusted by the last part.

Dean wasn't quite convinced but he let it go for the moment. Not that he had a say in this anyway.

"Why don't you open it?" Sam nudged the box closer to him. "You can't really work on it just yet but I bet you'll get a few ideas while putting together the basic part."

Sam clearly had no idea what he was talking about and that coaxed a smile on Dean's lips.

"Why not." Now he drew his hand back and reached for the box. "Let's have a look."

The picture on the side showed a fictitious car, something that looked badass for kids, but like Sam had suggested he didn't have to use the plastic body. He wasn't a big fan of flames and eagles on a car anyway.

Turned out the only thing he could do right now was to put the wheels on the plastic board that held the motor.

The part he was supposed to build himself was the body. It came in sheets of molded plastic, the kind of break the piece out, hope it doesn't break and it still got a knob of plastic standing out where it doesn't belong.

Dean put the sheets aside and had a closer look at the rest. Sam was right, there were already ideas forming in his mind. He couldn't go too heavy, this was built for a fairly light body after all, but he could figure something out.

"Thank you." Dean said and this time he really meant it.

Sam called his friend who agreed to come over after work which would be in the late afternoon. Until then they had a lot of time to kill.

"What do you want to do?" Sam asked, gesturing around the living room.

Dean would have liked to start looking through the stuff in the basement to see what he could use for the new car, for some stupid reason he felt excited like a kid in a candy store, but that was out of option. According to Sam only temporarily but Dean would believe that when he actually was back in the basement.

"That friend of yours." Why not use the time to get some information? "How does an incubus end up with a vampire? Isn't that kind of an odd friendship?" Dean didn't know much about the supernatural community but this seemed kinda strange.

Now Sam made an amused sound.

"Work." He answered.

"He got in trouble with the law?" Dean shook his head with a smile.

"Not exactly." For some reason that seemed to amuse Sam even more. "His nest owns a blood bank, we handle their legal issues."

Dean had never quite figured out what Sam did for a living. He was some kind of lawyer but didn't have to go to court – where was the fun in that, then? – instead he had to check contracts and things like that. Or something. It sounded boring. Office work. But apparently it paid off.

"So he works at a blood bank?" Dean raised an eyebrow. It made sense, though.

"No, he does something else." Sam said but didn't elaborate. "But he's second in command of his nest and has to take care of his share of the nest's business."

Dean nodded to that but his mind was on something else.

"You, an Incubus, take care of the legal issues of a business run by vampires." He summed up the information, a picture starting to form in his mind.

Sam gave him a smile as if he was proud of Dean putting together the pieces.

"You're starting to see the bigger picture. That's the community, we look out for each other."

Apparently Sam hadn't been joking when he spoke about the community. A nauseous feeling settled in Dean's guts and he needed to swallow against the urge to throw up. Vampires running a blood bank, werewolves controlling the Food Market. And Sam.

"How many?"

"Of us?" Sam shrugged. "The community owns the city."

Dean had to excuse himself, this was too much. He locked the door of his room, something he hadn't done in a while, and dropped on his bed.

He saw the pattern clearly now. He didn't have numbers but thinking back to the dimensions of the Food Market, there had to be thousands of supernatural creatures living in this city. And just like Sam, they blended in. With normal lives, normal jobs, watching out for each other.

How far did it go? What did they own? What had they infiltrated?

His eyes fell on the car in the corner, the sign with the message to call 911 still on top.

What about the police? Hospitals? Banks? Everything?

His mind swirled and he closed his eyes.

The police question was answered later that day with the arrival of Benny, the vampire. Or rather Detective Benjamin Lafitte.

"You must be Dean." The man, vampire, held his hand out and reluctantly Dean shook it. "Nice to meet you."

Just like Sam he looked normal. Just a normal guy with a warm Cajun accent.

They sat down, Benny in one of the chairs and Dean on the couch as far away from him as possible with Sam a solid wall between him and the vampire.

Despite Sam's repeated affirmation that Benny wasn't here to harm him, Dean still felt uneasy in his presence.

Turned out that Benny in fact was only there to talk. However, what Dean learned in the next half an hour, was more disturbing than anything his mind had come up on its own.

Benny worked homicide. He covered it up when things went out of hand. For example if Sam's name or address came up, the case would get assigned to somebody from the community. So even if Dean had succeeded with his little plan and somebody would have called 911 it wouldn't have done him any good.

But there were others. They had people keeping the newspapers clean and people whose sole purpose was to protect the community, people who would kill to keep the community a secret.

What the community didn't own, they had infiltrated. And they were everywhere.

After they had dropped that bomb on Dean, Sam and Benny talked for a while, exchanging stories over a beer like good old friends, which left Dean out but he couldn't follow the conversation anyway. His mind was swirling, this was far worse than he'd feared.

"Excuse me." He mumbled and without looking at them he hurried upstairs. He felt their eyes on him and only breathed easier when he had his door between them and him.

"They own the whole fucking city." Dean fisted his hair with both hands. He didn't make it to his bed, instead he leaned against the wall right next to the door. He didn't even have the energy to close the door properly and so he could still hear their voices from downstairs.

"So that's the human you're making all the fuss about." He heard Benny saying and for some stupid reason it warmed his heart. Sam was making a fuss about him?

"He looks a little ragged." Benny continued. "You keeping him up all night?" He teased like a good friend would do.

"It's not that." Sam answered and his tone alone made Dean straighten up. "He has nightmares."

Dean bit his lip and closed his eyes to this betrayal. How could Sam just casually expose him like this? He had no right.

"Given his situation …"

"It's not that." Sam continued. Dean reached for the door but he knew he couldn't prevent Sam from saying what he was about to say. "Something happened to him. Before me."

With the knob of the door in hand Dean froze.

_How could you?_

He'd trusted Sam, dammit.

There was a pause before Benny spoke again.

"I could have a look." He offered and Dean's heart stopped. "See what I can find."

_No!_, he wanted to scream but his chest felt too tight and he couldn't get enough air into his lungs. If Benny ran his name he would find … and then Sam would know … and … and …

Black spots danced in his vision and for some reason he was on his knees now.

He only heard Sam's response from a distance, muffled and far away like he was under water.

"Thanks but I don't want to spy after him." Sam said. "If he wants to tell me he's going to do it on his own terms."

"You really have a thing for this one, haven't you?" Dean heard the words over the rushing of his own blood in his ears but they didn't make sense. "I should leave now. And you should go and check on him. He's freaking out up there."


	15. Chapter 15

Sam didn't have the fine senses of a vampire so he'd no clue what was going on upstairs but if Benny said Dean was in trouble, he was.

Without even a glance in Benny's direction, he would find his way out on his own just fine, Sam stormed upstairs, taking two steps at once.

"Dean?" He forced himself to stop at the door and not just burst in, the last thing Dean needed was for him to step over the boundaries he'd set. The door was slightly ajar, far enough for him to make out Dean, who was kneeling on the floor, his whole body heaving. He was keening and probably hyperventilating. Shit.

"Dean?" He asked again, more gently now. "Can I come in?"

Dean didn't say anything, he probably couldn't, but he jerked his head to indicate a nod. Or maybe it was just an uncontrolled jerk and he hadn't even realized that Sam was there but Sam took it as permission and gently pushed the door open far enough to squeeze through. Then he was kneeling beside Dean who flinched away from Sam with a wounded sound.

"Dean." Sam kept his hands to himself, every fiber of his body wanted to touch, to comfort, but he saw that Dean didn't welcome it. Not now. He'd no idea what had triggered this but Dean was caught in a full-blown panic attack and Sam didn't know what to do.

"Shh, it's okay." He tried again and for the first time Dean turned his head just far enough to glance at him. "It's okay, Benny left. It's just you and me now."

Benny was his best guess but he couldn't for the life of his think of something the vampire might had said or done to freak Dean out like this.

"Just breathe." Sam tried to focus on the task at hand. "In and out, easy. Can you do that?"

Dean seemed to calm down a bit, his breathing still way too fast and short but when Sam now reached for him, he didn't flinch back. However, the muscles under Sam's hand felt tight and Dean was vibrating with tension.

"You're okay, everything is fine." Sam repeated nonsense on autopilot. It didn't matter what he said, it was his voice that had a soothing effect, he'd learned that from the nightmares. A comforting touch never failed either so he started to stroke Dean's neck and shoulder in long, even strokes.

"In and out, you're doing good." It took several minutes and by then Sam's legs had long gone numb but finally Dean had calmed down and was now heavily leaning on Sam.

"This is embarrassing." He said his first words and Sam couldn't have been happier.

"Welcome back." Sam closed his arms around him to a full hug and for a moment Dean melted into him, just letting Sam comfort him. "You good now?"

Dean nodded into his chest but didn't loosen his grip on Sam's shirt. When Dean had changed from flinching away to clinging to him Sam couldn't tell, he just enjoyed the closeness he felt to the man in his arms.

"Want to tell me what happened?"

Dean shook his head.

"Okay, how about getting up, then?" Sam suggested. "Let us at least sit on the bed. I can't feel my legs anymore."

Dean made a sound that could have been approving and together they hauled each other to their feet. Sam swayed on his numb legs and flopped ungracefully on Dean's bed. With a little more grace Dean sat down next to him. His breathing was still quicker than normal, like he'd just ran a marathon and he was sweating and his hands, dangling between his knees, trembled visibly.

"Water?" Sam asked while he carefully moved his legs to get the circulation going again. Dean didn't answer but Sam went to the bathroom to get him a glass of water anyway and Dean accepted it with a weak little smile.

"Sorry, you had to see this." Dean said when he'd finished the water and could speak again without sounding like he'd gargled with shredded glass.

"Don't." Sam took the glass from his hands. "I know you don't want to talk about it but I know that something happened to you. Someone hurt you. And sometimes those things come back to haunt you."

Dean avoided his eyes and looked at the floor instead.

"Dean, when I look at you." Sam licked his lips, searching for the right words. "I don't see a weak man, I don't see a victim. I see a survivor, I see a fighter. What you did with that car." He nodded towards said car in the corner. "That's not the work of somebody who's given up, that's the work of somebody with a strong will, somebody who fights."

"It was a stupid idea." Dean said. "Even if somebody called 911 ..."

"You didn't know that. And there was still the chance that somebody choose to help you immediately." Sam had to admit. That was the reason he couldn't risk something like this happen again.

"Why didn't you let Benny run my name?" Dean suddenly changed the topic.

Sam needed a moment to follow that jump but then the proverbial light bulb came up over his head. Dean had heard them. Had he freaked out because Benny could scoop around in his past? Because of what he may find?

And he must have heard that Sam had told Benny about the nightmares. Which probably hadn't been Sam's smartest move if he was honest.

"I should have kept my mouth shut." He admitted. "What happens here, between you and me, should stay between you and me. I'm sorry." Why he'd told Benny in the first place he couldn't even tell.

Dean nodded to that but Sam didn't get the feeling that he was forgiven.

"As for the other thing." Sam continued. "Like I told Benny, it's your choice when or if you tell me." Hesitantly he laid an arm around Dean's shoulder and this time the other man didn't tense up. "I'd like to know, that's true, but it's your story to tell."

He waited for Dean to speak, maybe to even tell him about his past, but Dean didn't say a word.

"I just want you to know that I'm here." Sam added. "Whenever you want to talk, I'm here."

They sat through another moment of silence before Sam clapped Dean on the shoulder.

"How about we order some pizza and watch a movie?"

"Sounds good." Dean seemed relived by that change of topic.

They had pizza but exhausted like he was from the night and his panic attack, Dean fell asleep halfway through the movie.

Sam couldn't tell how but somehow Dean ended up sleeping with his head in Sam's lap and with Sam absently massaging his scalp.

It felt nice, though. Sam finished the movie but he didn't pay attention to what was happening on the screen. His focus was on Dean's soft hair under his fingers, it had grown quite long by now and he probably should offer to cut it, but right now he just enjoyed the silky feeling.

Dean didn't seem to mind either. He slept soundly without a shadow of a nightmare and he didn't really wake up when Sam decided it was time for bed. He just padded after Sam, dropped on his side of the bed and was back to sleeping like a rock a minute later.

Sam watched him for a moment, a fond smile on his lips, before he crawled in next to him and switched off the light.

"Night, Dean."

First thing the next morning Sam made a few calls and got an appointment in the early afternoon with somebody to have a look at his property and to take measurements.

"A fence, uh?" Dean said when Sam finished the call. Putting the phone back in his pocket Sam tried to figure out Dean's emotions. If anything Dean was hard to read.

"It's the easiest solution." Sam sat down at the table. With the calls out of the way he had the peace to nurse his coffee.

Dean hmmed to that.

"Once the fence is installed I'll redo the spell and you have the basement back."

"Lucky me." Dean shook his head and finished his coffee like one would down a shot.

Sam flinched at that but he guessed he deserved it. What didn't make it better was that the hunger was gnawing at him. With his outburst he'd burned everything he had and the encounter with the stranger at the bar had barely been a drop in the ocean.

However, he didn't know how to bring it up. This seemed like the worst time ever to bring up Dean's obligation to have sex with him. He would have to feed before he went back to work on Monday, that much was clear, but hell if he knew how to get Dean on board with that idea without making him feel like he had to make amends.

The fence guy was right on time and Sam breathed easier when he could escape the loft for a little while. The tension between him and Dean was palpable, there were just too many things piling up between them, and it felt good to get away for a moment. Sam felt guilty for that but shoved that feeling aside and focused on the man from the fence company who tried to sell him an high-end security fence by pointing out the dangerous neighborhood and the alarming rise of break-ins in this area.

Sam had to bite back a bitter laugh. Break-ins wasn't what he was worried about.

The loft didn't have windows on the front but when they moved over to the side Sam could make out Dean's silhouette behind the glass front. He didn't try to get fence guy's attention but Sam felt Dean's eyes burning holes in his skull the whole time they were on this side of the building.

Sam didn't take the high-end security fence and settled for a way cheaper model instead. This one had the advantage that it could get installed rather quickly so Dean would get his basement back some time next week.

On his way back in Sam stopped at the work bench where the butchered vibrator still lay like Dean had left it. Sick of that sight Sam wrapped the pieces in an old newspaper and threw the bundle in the trash. After that he felt better.

Back upstairs he dropped on the couch, suddenly feeling exhausted.

"That was quite a talker." Dean joined him.

"I think he gets provision so he tried to turn this place into Fort Knox." He huffed out a laugh.

"You still spent a lot of money on a stupid fence." Dean said in a low voice.

"Money isn't an issue." Sam tried to reassure him. They fell into a comfortable silence for a while.

"Dean?" He broke the moment with a sigh but he needed to know.

"Hmm?"

"Do you hate me?" His biggest worry so far had been that Dean feared him, however, after seeing the destroyed toy he'd realized that there might be more to be worried about. Dean had every right to hate him. And after his betrayal yesterday with telling Benny about Dean's nightmares …

"What?" Blindsided by that question Dean just blinked at him.

"Do you hate me?" Sam repeated his question, having a close eye on Dean's face to catch every nuance of emotion flashing over his features.

Dean took his time to answer.

"I know I should hate you." He finally said. "But I don't." He looked him straight in the eye now. "I don't know why, maybe I'm just stupid, but I don't fear you and I don't hate you."

"You're not stupid." Sam reached over to take his hand. Dean was a lot of things, and he had barely scratched the surface here, but stupid wasn't one of them.

Dean just looked at their joined hands for a long second before he raised them up to dust a kiss on Sam's knuckles.

Sam's breath hitched and a tingle settled deep in his guts.

"Dean." He said and halfheartedly tried to draw his hand back. Dean just smirked against the back of his hand, the brush of his lips on his skin sending shivers down Sam's spine. God, he was hungry.

"I know you need to feed."


	16. Chapter 16

It was essential for Dean to know about Sam's need to feed and by now he could tell how hungry Sam was from the tension around his eyes alone. If he didn't feed more regularly he would get wrinkles from that.

However, Dean appreciated the fact that Sam tried to keep their interactions to a bare minimum.

So Dean knew exactly how hungry Sam was right now and he was pretty sure that he wouldn't make it over the weekend without some rolling in the sheets. Not that Dean was complaining, quite the opposite, sex with Sam was awesome and if they had met under different circumstances they would be in a happy relationship by now, Dean was pretty sure about that. Under this circumstances, however, everything was just fucked up. Dean sighed inwardly.

It was kinda adorable how Sam tiptoed around the topic, though.

With the rest of the afternoon and the whole evening ahead with nothing else to do for both of them than to feel miserable and awkward, Dean took the initiative. At least in bed he knew what to do and what was expected from him. Ironically enough, that was save ground.

It did help that in bed the roles were reversed to what he would have expected in a situation like this, as if he'd ever expected a situation like this. The more selfish and focused on his own pleasure he was, the more Sam got out of their little sessions and Dean could go with some feel good time right now. Not that he would let Sam hanging, though, he wasn't that kind of asshole.

Dean brushed one more kiss on Sam's knuckles, smirking at the reaction he could coax out of the other man easy like this. Sam was really hungry, this was going to be a long night.

"Dean, we don't have to …"

Dean shut him up by sucking Sam's thumb in his mouth.

Surprised Sam gasped but didn't drew his hand back.

"Hmm?" He hummed around the pad of the thumb on his tongue, looking at Sam with an innocent upward glance. Lazily he swirled his tongue around the digit, making a show out of it when he noticed Sam's hooded eyes focused on his mouth.

After a moment he let go of the thumb but before Sam could complain about the loss Dean was kneeling on the couch, straddling Sam's lap. There faces were only inches apart and Dean felt the soft puffs of Sam's breath on his lips.

Without a second thought Dean buried his hands in Sam's thick hair and brought their mouths together.

Reluctantly at first Sam kissed him back but then it took him only a second to hungrily suck on Dean's tongue. Dean moaned into the heat of Sam's mouth and welcomed the taste of his saliva which went straight to his dick.

"Make me feel good." He murmured into Sam's mouth, not willing to break the kiss. "Make me forget." Dean just wanted to stop thinking, to stop worrying. For a few hours he just wanted to lay in Sam's arms and don't care about a thing in the world.

"I'll make it good." Sam promised, his roaming hands finally settling down on Dean's ass, kneading the muscles through the fabric of his jeans.

Dean had no doubt that Sam would make it good for him. Never before had he been with a partner who was so in tune with him, who knew exactly how to worship his body and which words to whisper to coax mind-blowing orgasms out of him.

Dean came the first time right there on the couch, sitting in Sam's lap, spilling his release over Sam's hand.

With Sam's other hand firmly pressed to his lower back Dean was in no danger of falling off when he arched his back in a toneless cry and then he slumped forward, head resting on Sam's shoulder.

"That was good." He mumbled.

"It's going to get better." Sam promised and Dean was too wrung out to complain when Sam carried him upstairs like an overgrown toddler with his limps dangling and his face buried in Sam's neck. Damn, Sam was a strong guy.

Dosed up with the Incubus' saliva Dean had the recovery time of a teenager on a hormone high so by the time they reached the bed he was up for round two.

They didn't leave the bedroom until the next morning and by then Sam walked funny but was too well fed to move much around anyway.

"We're good?" Sam asked over a much needed coffee for breakfast.

"We're good." Dean confirmed around a mouth full of pancakes. They had skipped dinner and had burned a lot of calories instead so Dean wolfed down his breakfast like a starving man.

They were both too full and exhausted to do much after breakfast and settled for a lazy day on the couch with a Star Wars marathon. You can never go wrong with that, Dean figured, his feet in Sam's lap who absently rubbed them with strong hands.

_It could be worse_, was Dean's last thought before he drifted off half an hour into the first movie.

On Monday Sam went back to work but came home early on Wednesday when the fence was installed. There was no real reason for him to be there, he was more in the way than anything else, at least telling from what Dean could see from his spot at the window. But Sam wasn't there to observe the workers, he knew that. Sam was there to keep an eye on Dean.

It would have been easy to get the attention of one of the workers, they were literally just right outside his window, and Sam couldn't risk that. Dean got that. And if he was honest, he would have tried. He had no idea what the man could even do to help him but he would have tried.

With Sam around he didn't even get the chance and somewhere deep in his mind he was glad about that. And that scared him more than anything else.

It took them two days to finish the fence, a solid concrete thing, ugly but fitting right in the rundown industrial neighborhood. Dean couldn't see the front but he'd bet on an equally solid gate there.

Sam didn't waste time. As soon as the fence was finished and the workers gone, he locked himself in his room to redo the spell.

"Okay." He came back out a while later. Dean stopped in his tracks, he hadn't been pacing the living room the whole time … he just needed to move around a little bit.

A wide grin on his face Sam came down the stairs and nodded towards the elevator.

"Give it a try."

Dean didn't have to be told twice.

"Thank you." He couldn't help the stupid feeling of gratitude tightening his chest when he stepped over the invisible barrier into the elevator.

"I told you, you'd get it back." Sam reminded him softly. Together they rode down to the basement where Dean had a curious look around.

It was almost like he'd left it. Sam had put back a few tools and had cleaned up after him but that was it. Even the piles of useful stuff he'd sorted earlier and had never thought he'd come back to were still like he'd left them. Plus all the stuff he didn't have the time to explore earlier.

Dean noticed all that but his first way, however, was straight for the front windows. From here he had been able to see all the way down the driveway to the road but now the new fence blocked the way. Like he'd guessed the gate was as solid as the rest of the fence, there was no way for him now to get the attention of one of the cars passing by.

"What do you think?" Sam asked after a moment and with a sigh Dean stepped back from the window.

"It could use some graffiti, it looks depressing." He turned just in time to see the flash of hurt on Sam's face. "Don't worry, the outside is probably already tagged." He tried to lift the mood and Sam rewarded him with a little smile.

Sam let him be for a while and Dean started to sort through the scrap metal while a picture of the finished car formed in his mind. The set Sam had bought was meant for a rather light car, the cheap engine not really built to carry more than a few ounces of plastic.

"Next time I ask him to look online." Dean muttered to himself. "There has to better quality stuff for model builders."

He paused, a piece of bent metal still in hand, and thought about what he'd just said. For one, he was already thinking about how to get a better result next time and second, why was he so certain that Sam would even buy him more stuff? He didn't have to buy him the first car. He didn't have to go out of his way with all this, the fence, the basement, just to please Dean.

Sam didn't have to bother with all this and could keep Dean locked up in his bedroom as the sex slave he basically was. Except that Dean didn't see himself as Sam's sex slave and he didn't get the feeling that Sam did.

"Did I mention that this is fucked up?" He muttered to nobody in particular.

Over the next few days the car started to take shape and Dean couldn't help but think back to that one car he'd built so many years ago. This one looked different, he'd made sure of that, but it still reminded him of the other one.

And wasn't it sad that Sam – an Incubus, a supernatural monster who kept Dean as some kind of convenient food supply – was more supporting and understanding than his own father?

Sam asked how the project was going, he came downstairs to bring him food and something to drink when Dean forgot the time and of course to have a look at the progress but he left Dean alone most of the time and let him work in peace.

Still well fed Sam tended to fall asleep easily and more than once Dean found him on the couch when he finally made his way upstairs late in the evening.

Watching the peacefully sleeping man Dean tried to figure out his feelings towards Sam. Complicated, was the closest description he could come up with. He wasn't good with feelings anyway.

Letting Sam sleep on the couch for a little while longer Dean went upstairs for a shower and then changed into his sleepwear. Only then he nudged Sam awake far enough to get him in bed and then slipped in next to him.

Dean didn't have nightmares over the last week or so and technically he could sleep in his own bed just fine but for some reason he slept better in Sam's. That bed was ridiculous big anyway. Did he use to have orgies in here or what?

Laying on his side Dean watched Sam who was already back to dreamland. Whatever Sam had used to do before Dean had stepped into his life, he'd stopped that completely. Except for that one trip to get some quick random sex Sam had only been out for work and stuff like the groceries. As far as Dean knew he hadn't seen any friends or had been out to party or whatever.

Neither had Dean so it seemed only fair but a little voice in the back of his mind begged to differ. Dean was cut off from life, that came with his situation and he'd accepted it. Sam on the other hand was free to do whatever he wanted. So why didn't he go out more often. Or at all?

With that thoughts circling in his mind Dean finally slipped into sleep.


	17. Chapter 17

Sam was glad they'd made it over the rough spot without lasting damage. At least he hoped so. But seeing the enthusiasm with which Dean was throwing himself into his new project, Sam dared to hope.

The first time Dean forgot to make dinner he apologized over and over and asked Sam to remind him if necessary so it won't happen again. Since Dean had taken over the cooking they hadn't missed a meal and for some reason now Dean felt obliged to provide Sam with a home-cooked dinner every day. Not that Sam minded.

He didn't mind the Chinese take-out they had the day Dean forgot to cook either. The next time Dean was too engrossed in his work to think about dinner Sam made sandwiches instead.

"At least you didn't try to cook." Dean said in a poor attempt to cover his embarrassment with humor.

"You would punish me with oatmeal gruel for a week if I tried."

"Damn right I would." Dean agreed and took a bite from his sandwich. "But you make a decent sandwich."

Sam only grinned to that. "How's the car coming around?"

"Good." Dean swallowed. "I think I found a way to cut down the weight and still getting the shape I'm looking for."

Sam listened to him talking about his car, then Sam told him about his day in the office before they went over to the pool table for a little game. It was a good evening.

What truly surprised Sam was how easily they had slipped into the habit of sharing Sam's bed. Since his last bad night Dean hadn't slept in his own bed once. He got restless from time to time during the nights but as far as Sam could tell he didn't have one really bad nightmare since then. They didn't talk about it and Sam could live with that. Just like he could live with waking up to Dean curled all around him. Seriously, asleep that man became an octopus.

Sam had to take care of annoying morning wood in the shower more often than not but no way he was forcing himself on Dean like this. The last thing he wanted to happen was for Dean to get the wrong idea that he somehow had to pay him for the privilege of sleeping in his bed or something.

Dean got up with him in the morning and they had breakfast together before Sam went to work and Dean went back to working on his car.

"Hey, Sam." Ellen stood in his office door, giving him a truly welcomed break from the rather boring case he was working on. "You have any plans for the twentieth?"

"Are you asking me for a date?" Sam raised an amused eyebrow. "I'm flattered but … how do I break it to you … I'm gay."

"Smartass." She smacked the folder she was holding playfully in his direction. "It's my birthday and some idiot made it a social norm that you have to invite friends and family to celebrate that." She made a face. "Saturday the twentieth, eight o'clock, my place. Bring your boyfriend."

"My … what …?" Sam stammered at that.

"Didn't you say you were seeing someone?" Now it was her turn to raise an eyebrow. "It didn't work out? Damn, I was looking forward to talking to him about that car you bought him." She shook her head and only with a delay she added: "I'm sorry. I hope it wasn't too hard on you. The break-up I mean."

Sam stared at her for a long moment before he couldn't hold back the laughter anymore. Not exactly because this was funny but more out of the absurdity of his relationship with Dean.

"Oh, I am still seeing him." Sam corrected. "But I think it's a little too early to introduce him to my friends."

"Oh, okay." Ellen frowned at him but let it be. "But you're coming. I'm counting on you. With my family being there I need at least one decent human being around."

"I'm not sure if I'm the right one for that." He muttered after her but low enough so she couldn't hear him.

For a while now his only plans for the weekends had been staying home with Dean so this would be a nice change. However, he felt kinda bad with the thought of leaving Dean alone to go to a party.

"Of course you're going." Was Dean's reaction when Sam brought the invitation up that evening. He left out the part that his boyfriend was invited as well, though.

"I don't know." Sam fiddled with his fork. He would like to go, yes, but for one it seemed unfair for Dean and he wasn't sure if that wouldn't trigger something for Dean.

"I'm a big boy." Dean assured him. "I can survive an evening alone." _Without panicking_, hung unspoken in the air. "And you really should go out once in a while instead of hanging you with my boring ass all the time."

"Dunno, I like your ass." Sam smiled at him and nodded. "Okay, I'll go."

With that settled Sam had to face the next problem. A birthday party called for a gift. But he had a few days to come up with something. For now he just enjoyed the view when Dean bent more than necessary to put his plate in the dishwasher.

"What?" He came up, a mischievous smile on his lips. "You said you like my ass."

Sam was still comfortably fed, a fact Dean was aware of for sure, so he took Dean's teasing as the fun it was without searching for the deeper meaning.

"I'm almost done with the car." Dean changed the topic. "Just have to decide on the paint-job." Now he rubbed the back of his head as if he wasn't sure how to ask what was on his mind.

"You're set with the paint?" Sam asked, sensing where this was heading. "If you need more I can get you more after work tomorrow."

Bracing himself on the back of his chair Dean gave him a relieved smile.

"I was thinking a dark, almost black, metallic blue." Dean's face lit up.

Sam had seen the car the other day so he had no problem imagine it with that color. A blue like that would emphasize the lines of the car. Dean didn't go for a real car model this time but what he'd come up with could pass as the real thing with a touch of scrap. Not at all what Sam had pictured when he'd heard that Dean wanted to built something out of scrap metal.

"Hmm." Sam made. "I'll see if I can get something like that."

The result was even better than Sam had imagined. Proudly Dean brought the car upstairs for a test drive. This was the first time Sam saw the car in motion but judging by the way Dean handled it via the remote he had some practice. Sam made a mental note to keep enough batteries handy.

After a few rounds around the loft Dean brought the car to a halt at Sam's feet.

"Want to give it a try?" He asked, holding the remote out to him.

Sam swallowed against the sudden tightness of his throat. This was Dean's baby. The one thing he'd spent countless hours with. The only thing that was truly his.

"I just hope I won't crash it." Sam accepted the remote with a butterfly feeling in his stomach.

"I'll kill you in your sleep." Dean promised darkly but it felt good that Dean felt comfortably enough around Sam that he could joke with him like this.

"Okay, then." Carefully Sam set the car in motion.

"My grandmother drives fast than that."

Sam didn't let the words irritate him and after a few rounds he got the hang of it.

"Not bad." Dean nodded and set the stakes higher by setting up a course with books.

Sam didn't stand a chance but he had fun racing against Dean. They spent the next hour maneuvering the car through different courses and Sam was happy enough when he managed to get through without too many bumps into the books outlining the course. He knew there was no way he could beat Dean anyway.

"Winner!" Dean declared with his fist in the air and a wide grin on his face.

Sam hung his head in defeat but he happily granted Dean his victory.

The next few days the buzzing of the car was a constant noise in the loft, not that Sam minded. Dean was happy and Sam was pretty sure that the enthusiasm would die down soon and Dean would put his mind on a new project. In the end it was the building part that held the real fun for Dean. He was already complaining about the a weak engine and the cheap remote control.

"We can see if we find something better online." Sam offered from his place on the couch while Dean stood somewhere behind him, playing with his car.

"We can?" Dean perked up to that and Sam noticed that he'd picked up on the _we_.

"After I've found the right present for Ellen." Sam gestured at his laptop with way too many tabs open and not the right idea in sight.

"Perfume?" Dean suggested.

"She's not that kind of woman."

"Does she read?"

"No idea what."

"Concert tickets?"

"Nah." Sam dismissed that too. He'd no idea what kind of music Ellen liked.

"What do you know about her?" Now he stopped the car and turned his attention to Sam.

"Good question." He muttered. What did he know about her? Maybe he should get her a good whiskey.

The sound of the car started again and now Dean used the legs of the couch table and Sam's feet as an obstacle course.

"Dean." Sam whined when the car bumped into his foot. But then he stopped and had a real look at the car at his feet.

"I'm sorry." Dean hurried to get the car away, probably knowing that Sam wasn't in the mood.

Sam followed the car with his eyes, an idea forming in his head.

"Ehm, Dean?"

"I put it away." Dean stopped the car and carried it over to the corner where it had been parked since it was finished.

"No, it's okay." He hated it when Dean fell into that obedient behavior of his. It didn't happen that often anymore but whenever Sam was in a bad mood Dean walked on eggshells.

"It's just … the car …" He searched for the right words. He didn't want to just take it from Dean but he had no idea what to offer him in return.

"Yeah?" Dean sat down in the chair next to him and watched him with a mixture of curiosity and wariness.

"It would be the perfect gift for Ellen."

Dean stared at him in clear disbelieve. "That thing?"

"That thing." Sam nodded. "It's awesome and she told me that she'd always wanted a car like that as a kid but her parents never bought her one. It would be perfect."

"You could buy her a real one." Dean offered.

Sam licked his lips, thinking. "If you want to keep it for yourself, I'm going to buy her another one." He said, watching Dean closely. "No problem. But if you just think it's not good enough or something like that …"

Dean actually blushed at that. "You really think it's good?"

"Is it good? Dean, I'd pay money for it." He meant it and he figured that this would impress Dean more than just saying how good it was.

"Not that I have any use for money." Dean answered but accepted the words as the compliment they were.

"True." Sam had to admit. "But I'd really like to buy it. If there's anything special you want …" He spread his hands in a helpless manner. So far Dean had never really asked for anything. Okay, the paint but other than that? Maybe he'd feel more comfortable with asking for something if it was part of a fair deal and not begging on his part.

"Can I think about that?" Dean asked.

"Sure. I still have a few days to come up with something."

Later that evening they sat together, watching TV, when Dean all of a sudden said: "I know what I want for the car."

"What?" Now he was curious what Dean would ask for.

"I want coffee and pie."

"Coffee and pie?" That wasn't what Sam had expected.

"In a coffee shop."


	18. Chapter 18

The idea had popped into Dean's mind almost immediately. Okay, after he was over the shock that apparently Sam thought his little car was worth something. But then the idea was there. He just needed a few hours to gather the courage to actually name his price.

"Coffee and pie." He said and when Sam just repeated the words with a confused expression, Dean clarified his request: "In a coffee shop."

"Dean." Sam slumped in to himself with sigh of sorrow. "You know that I can't do that."

"Hear me out." Dean begged. Over the last few hours he'd thought this through and he was certain that Sam would at least consider this once he'd listened to the details.

"An hour, that's all I want." Dean explained and Sam listened, that was all he could ask for. "You'll be at my side all the time and c'mon, you probably know a coffee shop owned by someone from your community. We have our coffee and come straight back afterwards. You can lock me in my room until you've set up the spell again. No tricks, I won't try something, I promise. Hell, you can search me beforehand for hidden messages. Please, man." Towards the end his voice got a desperate edge but at this point he just wanted to get out. If it was only for an hour.

Sam didn't say a word for a long moment, he just studied Dean with an unreadable expression.

"Let me think about it, okay?" Sam asked, almost hesitantly.

"Sure." Dean replied easily but inwardly he wanted to cheer. Sam hadn't rejected the idea on the spot which would almost certainly lead to a yes.

He didn't bring up the idea the rest of the evening and on the surface they just enjoyed some stupid TV before they turned in. But Dean practically felt Sam thinking, felt the occasional glances in his direction. After his attempt to escape he couldn't blame Sam for doubting him but he meant it. He just wanted to get out for a moment. No hidden agenda here. He just hoped Sam believed him.

In bed they lay side by side without touching and for a long time without sleeping. By the time Dean finally drifted off to sleep he was pretty sure that Sam was still wide awake with the wheels turning in his head.

"Okay." Sam said out of the blue when they sat together over breakfast the next morning.

"Really?" Dean didn't need to ask what he was talking about.

"Under a few conditions." Sam raised his hand to dampen Dean's enthusiasm.

"Of course." Dean nodded to that, he hadn't expected that Sam would just open the doors and let him out.

"Don't get me wrong here." Sam back-pedaled. "I trust you, I do, but I've to make sure …" He didn't finish the sentence, unable to look Dean in the eye for the last part.

"Whatever you think is necessary."

"You're too creative for your own good." Sam smiled at him. "So I want to search you first. Naked."

"Full body cavity search?" Dean raised an amused eyebrow and tried very hard to not think about the Food Market. "Kinky."

Sam just rolled his eyes at him. "And I pick out your clothes. While we're out you don't talk to anybody, you don't leave my side. No bathroom breaks. We have a deal?"

"We have a deal." They shook hands and Dean felt like he'd just won the lottery. "When?"

"How about Saturday?"

"Awesome."

The night to Saturday Dean hardly slept and he was up early with the feeling of pleasant anticipation he guessed was connected to Christmas mornings.

Sam was still sleeping so Dean slipped out of bed quietly and padded over to his own room for a shower and with the upcoming thorough search in mind, and in not exactly a good way, he made it an equally thorough shower. Then he went downstairs to set up some coffee. Not that he needed it, he was hyperactive already and he would get some later anyway but he needed something to do.

Too nervous to eat or to enjoy his coffee Dean just made sure that there was enough left for Sam while he debated if he should wake the other man or not. They hadn't set a time for their trip, a fact Dean regretted now, but he was pretty sure five in the morning wasn't what Sam had in mind.

By the time Sam finally came downstairs Dean had found out that early morning TV sucked even more than daytime TV, that they needed new magazines and that the sunrise over industrial buildings could be breathtaking.

"Wish I had a camera." Dean muttered at the sight of the latter.

"I could get you one." Sam offered who'd come up behind Dean without him noticing. "Didn't know you're into photography."

"I'm not." Dean admitted. "But seeing this I wish I was." He gestured at the bank of windows which gave an excellent view on the rising sun.

"Couldn't sleep?" Sam asked knowingly and poured himself a coffee.

Dean didn't answer that one.

"We still have some time." Leaning against the counter Sam stirred his coffee and then licked the spoon clean before he laid it aside. Dean tried to not stare at his tongue darting out.

"I'd rather come in after the morning rush." Sam continued, he probably hadn't noticed Dean's staring. Or so Dean hoped.

Then Sam bent just a little more than necessary to get the milk out of the fridge. Okay, he probably had noticed. And if not, he for sure did now because Dean's interest sparked at the sight of his firm butt in the well fitting jeans and that was something Sam always noticed. He could smell it or something, freaking incubus.

"Like what you see?" Sam grinned at him over his shoulder and made no attempt to conceal his rear end. Quite the opposite.

Dean licked his lips. They had some time to kill. And Sam wanted to search him, every part of him, thoroughly. Why not turn this from something humiliating, and no he wasn't thinking about his arrival at the Food Market, just no, into something more pleasurable?

Picking up on Dean's mood, Sam sauntered over with a lascivious smile on his lips.

"You want me to search you now?" Sam asked, his voice already a little husky. Damn, he got sexed up fast. Not that Dean was complaining. He swallowed to get some moisture back in his suddenly too dry mouth.

"Go ahead." Dean spread his arms in an inviting gesture and hoped that Sam would take the little tremble in his voice for arousal.

Sam helped him out of his clothes, he hadn't bothered with more than sweatpants and a T-shirt anyway.

Sam's fingers ghosted over his naked chest, leaving goosebumps on their way to his shoulder and back while Sam stepped around him. Dean screwed his eyes shut and focused on breathing. This was worse than his first day with Sam.

Dean could almost feel the cold tiles under his feet, smell the disinfectant. He remembered the clinical touch of the man examining him in front of all the others. Like a piece of cattle.

"Dean?" Sam asked but his voice was almost lost in the rushing of his own blood in his ears. Dean tried to stand still, all thoughts of sex forgotten he just wanted this to be over as soon as possible.

"Dean?" In front of him now, which was better. Slightly.

When Sam touched him at the shoulder, Dean stumbled away from him. He couldn't take it anymore.

"You know what?" He said louder than he'd intended. "Screw this." With shaking hands he gathered his clothes. "Just take the car and let's forget about this. Okay?"

He stumbled his way up the stairs but made it to his room before he lost his last shred of self-control.

Dry sobs clogging his throat he fell to his knees.

"Dean?" Of course, Sam had followed him. "Can I come in?"

The question was kinda ridiculous because Dean had forgotten to close the door behind himself and now Sam had a pretty good view on Dean's butt naked ass.

Dean must have made a confirming sound because Sam knelt next to him a second later. After he'd taken a moment to get the comforter from the bed and draped it over Dean.

Feeling absurdly relieved by that gesture – Sam had seen him naked how many times now? – Dean drew it closer around himself.

"I'm sorry." Sam broke the moment of silence. "I didn't mean to …"

Dean nodded to that, not quite trusting his voice just yet. He knew Sam didn't mean to upset him.

"You should have told me how uncomfortable I made you."

Dean even managed a smile to that, Sam was so utterly clueless but he tried. He tried so hard and that made it so much harder for Dean to make up his mind how to feel towards him.

"It was one of your conditions." Dean tried his voice and it didn't come out as distressed as he'd feared.

"Dean, I'm not a stone-cold monster." Sam let out a sigh and shifted to sit more comfortable on the floor. Not easy with his freakish long legs, Dean noticed with a hint of amusement. "You can talk to me. The last thing I want to do is to trigger you."

"I know." Dean sighed and leaned more comfortably against the bed frame.

"You want to tell me about what happened?" Sam asked, not pushing, just letting Dean know that he would listen if Dean wanted to talk.

"You know how they get their humans for the Food Market?" Dean stretched out his legs, this was something he could talk about.

"I try to not think too closely about that." Sam admitted.

"They tranq people walking down the street." Dean explained. "Next thing you know is waking up in a truck like a piece of cattle. When they let you out they give you a nice little demonstration of what happens if you don't cooperate. You take that one to the heart." Dean snorted at that with a side glance at Sam to see if he got what he was referring to.

"Before they put you in those cells like a steak on display they have to make sure that you're fit and healthy." His voice betrayed him here and he wasn't able to look at Sam.

Sam didn't say a word but put a hand on his shoulder, hesitantly at first but more confidently when Dean leaned into the touch.

"I didn't know." Sam finally said.

"I thought I could stand it." Dean admitted. "Tried it your way but sex didn't work out for me here."

Now Sam chuckled in a low tone. "Maybe you've to be an incubus for that to work."

"I should put on some clothes now." Dean decided, wearing only the comforter made him feel too vulnerable for his liking.

"I'll get you the things I have picked out for today."

"Hmm?" Dean raised an eyebrow at him while Sam struggled to get his legs under himself to get off the floor.

"I think we can skip the search but I'll feel better if you wear things I've searched beforehand."

"You mean?"

"I could go with some pie now." Sam answered already at the door to get him his clothes. "If you're up for it. I can give you a rain check on this."

"Why are you doing this?" Dean just had to ask. Why did Sam put up with all his crap?

"You deserve it."

Seconds later Sam was back with a bundle of clothes and Dean hurried to get dressed under his watchful eyes. With every piece of clothing Dean felt more like himself and in the end he could almost laugh at his little freak out.

"Let's go and get some pie." Sam led the way. "I know where they make the best pie in the city."


	19. Chapter 19

The day hadn't started like Sam had pictured it. At first it had been fun to see Dean's excitement over one little trip into town. He had even hoped that the necessary task of searching Dean for hidden messages or weapons, without the spell Dean would be able to attack Sam, would turn into something more fun. But then the teasing and the waves of arousal he got from Dean changed into something else.

When Dean stood naked in the middle of the room, stiff like a board and borderline to a panic attack Sam realized that something had gone completely wrong at some point.

Sam had followed Dean upstairs where he learned the ugly truth about the Food Market, no wonder Dean had freaked out.

However, that was only one more reason for Sam to take Dean out for pie. It broke his heart how easily Dean was willing to give up something he'd been really looking forward to. Or how surprised Dean reacted when Sam still wanted to go out even without the thorough search he'd insisted on earlier.

When they finally sat in the car a few minutes later Sam watched Dean out of the corner of his eye. Not that he feared Dean would jump out of the driving car or something. No, with a mixture of joy and guilt Sam watched the emotions flashing over Dean's face. Only now it occurred to him that Dean probably had expected to never leave Sam's place ever again. At least not alive. And if Sam was honest, he'd refused to think about that because he had to admit that it was true. He'd never intended to let Dean out again. Why he did it now he had no idea but the open smile on Dean's face was worth it.

"This is awesome." Dean proclaimed. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." Sam tried to not show the stab of guilt he was feeling. He just had no idea how to get out of the situation. He needed Dean and letting him go was out of option. If somebody out of the community found out about a rogue human out there who knew too much about them, Dean was dead.

No matter if he liked it or not, they were stuck together.

"You know that the car isn't supposed to sound like this, don't you?" Dean said after a few minutes. With his head tilted like a dog listening to something he was focused on the sound of the engine.

"Sounds fine to me." Sam answered but he had to admit that he knew nothing about cars. He knew who to call if the car broke down and that was it.

"I'll take a look at it when we're back home." Dean nodded to himself and declared the car healthy enough for their little ride. To Sam the important part of that statement was that Dean for one intended to come back to Sam's place and second that he'd called that place home.

"You're the expert on this." Sam said, his voice thick with emotions.

They reached the place Sam had in mind twenty minutes later and to Sam's relief there were only a few cars in the parking lot. Looked like the breakfast rush was already over.

He parked the car but for a moment neither of them showed any intention to get out.

"You stay right at my side." Sam reminded him. "No wandering off, no talking to anybody. Okay?" He wasn't sure what he would do if Dean just got out of the car and made a break for it.

However, he didn't have to find out. Dean nodded in agreement and followed Sam inside. This was more of a diner and not a coffee shop like Dean had requested but Sam figured it didn't matter as long as Dean got out and the pie was good. And the pie was good here, he hadn't lied when he'd proclaimed it the best pie in the city.

They got a table in the far corner, away from the few other patrons.

"Coffee?" The waitress brought the menus and filled their cups.

"Thank you." Dean said politely with a challenging eye on Sam. Strictly speaking this was against the no talking rule but he didn't hurt anybody with being polite.

"We're here for the pie." Sam accepted his coffee. "What flavors do you have? Which one would you recommend?"

"Well, the apple pie is very popular." She said and then rattled off the different kinds they also had and with every word Dean's eyes got bigger and his grin wider.

"Thanks, just give as a sec to decide." Sam thanked her.

"Sure thing."

Alone again Sam breathed easier. So far Dean hadn't shown any intention to do anything else than drink a coffee and have some pie but Sam was already sweating. In the light of the day he was here with a kidnapped man who he held captive against his will. Dean had every right to try to escape or to ask for help. Dean had given his word to not try anything and Sam believed him but he still felt uneasy with the whole situation.

Dean couldn't decide between apple and pecan so Sam ordered both for him and blueberry for himself. In the end Dean ate his two slices and half of Sam's.

Sam did enjoy sitting here with Dean, he did, but somewhere along the road he'd lost his appetite.

Dean talked about Sam's car, what he thought might be wrong with it, and Sam just nodded and listened. Not that he understood a word of what Dean was saying. Either way, he might save quite some money if he let Dean take care of it now instead of waiting until it became a real problem and he would need to bring it in.

When they'd finished their pie, they leaned back, slowly sipping their coffees. By now even Sam had relaxed a bit.

Dean sat with his back to the wall which gave him a good view on the diner. Sam didn't turn his head to see what Dean was watching, he kept his eyes on Dean's face. He feared what he might read in his expression, wistfulness, sadness, but instead Dean's face was lit in genuine joy.

"Ready to go home?" Sam asked and finished his cup.

"Yeah." Dean set his cup down and grinned at him. Sam paid and a minute later they were back in the car. "Thanks, man. That was awesome."

Back home Dean went straight to his room and left the key in the lock from the outside.

"It won't take long." Sam promised when he turned the key and then sprinted to his own room to set the spell. He wanted to rush through the process but he needed to do it right so he forced himself to focus and to take his time.

The telltale orange flash wasn't even gone when he was back at Dean's door.

"Okay, you can come out." Sam said but the door didn't open like he'd expected. Instead he heard Dean's voice.

"Come in."

Not sure what to make out of this but with an uneasy feeling in his stomach Sam opened the door.

The first thing he noticed was the towel on the bed. Dean had put the covers aside and had laid out a towel instead. Then he noticed the bottle on the nightstand and only then his gaze flicked to Dean who stood a little awkward at the side.

"Dean." Sam started, searching for the words to tell him that he didn't need to thank him, but he was cut off by Dean anyway.

"You're tense like a bow string." Dean stepped closer and placed his hands on Sam's shoulders. "The whole trip, you couldn't relax for a second." His fingertips dug into the meat of Sam's neck, working on the tight muscles there. Dean stepped around him to get a better angle and now his thumbs found the knots between his shoulder blades.

"Dean, what are you doing?" Sam groaned when Dean found a tender spot. It hurt but in a good way.

"Take off your clothes and lay down." Dean purred in his ear. "I'll give you a massage."

Obediently Sam took off his shirt and kicked off his shoes but hesitated at the belt.

"All your clothes." Dean clarified, his warm hands now working their magic on Sam's bare shoulders.

"Am I getting a happy ending?" Sam teased while a small part of his brain told him to stop this. This wasn't like it was supposed to be, Dean shouldn't repay him like this. Hell, he had paid for their little trip with the car, he owed Sam nothing.

"Only if you stop thinking so much and get naked already." Dean mumbled and left a trail of kisses on his neck.

It may just be his nature but the last few hours had left Sam tense and burned out so he stopped thinking and let Dean take care of him. At least he felt Dean's arousal spiking when Sam shook off his pants and underwear.

"Just relax." Dean told him, running a hand down his back when Sam finally lay on his stomach. There was a short rustle of clothes and the sound of a bottle opening and then the mattress dipped and he felt Dean straddling his thighs. With his forehead resting on the back of his hands Sam couldn't see him but if he wasn't mistaken, Dean was naked as well.

However, Dean started chastely with kneading Sam's shoulders and then working his way down his spine. With sure hands he found every knot and kink, coaxing moans of pleasured pain from Sam while he slowly relaxed into a happy puddle.

Skipping his butt Dean worked his way down to his legs, first the right one, than the left one, massaging every muscle down to his toes.  
By now Sam was on his way to dozing off with his rock hard erection trapped between him and the rough texture of the towel. The light friction kept him pleasantly aroused without the urge to do something about it.

"Turn over." Dean nudged him gently and Sam rolled over, his erection now proud and leaking on display but Dean ignored that and went to work on his arm instead. Then the other one and his chest before he traveled downwards but bypassed Sam's cock, much to his frustration but he was too comfy to protest, and put his attention to the front of his legs.

And then, finally, Dean's fingers, hand slick and warm from the oil, wrapped around his cock. In slow, even strokes he moved up and down Sam's length, thumb circling the head with every upstroke, while his other hand cradled Sam's balls.

The heat pooling in his belly deepened with each stroke, building up to a lazy orgasm. Curling his toes Sam let out a sigh and spilled his release over Dean's hand.

"You're hired as my personal masseur." Sam mumbled, already drifting off to sleep.

"What, I get paid now for my service? Awesome." Dean teased but in a low enough voice to not disturb Sam's afterglow. "We're not done yet, turn over."

Only now it occurred to Sam that Dean hadn't touched himself and so far had not gotten anything from this.

"Dean …" He started but Dean cut him off by putting his hands on Sam's butt.

"Shh." Dean made and his thumbs slipped in the cleft, brushing over his entrance. Dean was about to take care of himself so Sam just spread his legs a little wider to give Dean more room and was otherwise content with just lying there and enjoying Dean's hands on him.  
He thought Dean would speed things up now but he took his sweet time, working him open with one finger at a time until he was finally up to three. Sam never needed that much preparation and with the attention Dean paid his prostate he was aching for more long before Dean was willing to put his cock in there. How Dean mustered that iron level of self-control was beyond him but Sam was in no condition to think anyway.

When Dean finally came buried deep inside him, he took Sam with him over the edge.

"What are you doing to me?" Sam mumbled into the pillow, too wrung out to move, while Dean rolled off him and stretched out next to him.

"I could ask you the same thing."


	20. Chapter 20

_To the guest who's asking for bottom Dean: Just be patient._

* * *

The day of Ellen's birthday party Dean was more nervous than he'd been on his own prom and he wasn't even the one going.

The whole day he tried to convince Sam to take something, anything, else so he could pull a "Ha, ha, of course that's a joke, here's your real present".

However, Sam didn't listen, that stubborn bastard, and insisted that the toy car was the perfect present for Ellen.

"It's your funeral." Dean muttered under his breath and dropped on the couch in defeat. At least nobody at the party knew him and he would never meet one of them so nobody would laugh in his face for that sorry excuse for a car. It didn't change the fact that he knew and that Sam knew, though.

What if they laughed at Sam for the present? What if Ellen wasn't amused at all? Could she fire him over this? She was Sam's boss after all.

"Stop worrying." Sam sat down next to him, the offensive car in one hand and a box in the other. "She'll love it."

Dean shook his head but couldn't think of something to say he hadn't said ten times today already. At least the paper Sam wrapped it in was nice.

"Don't wait up for me." Sam said when he was ready to leave, present under his arm and a grin on his face.

Of course Dean did wait up. There was no way he could sleep now. He knew it was silly but he felt like Sam had taken his baby to show it off to his friends and now he feared that they'd rip it apart.

"If I had known he wanted to give it away, I would have spent more time making it better." Dean muttered to himself while he paced up and down the living room. Over the last few days he had done what he could to make it just a little more perfect but there were still way too many things he wasn't quite happy with but couldn't change without taking the car apart and start from scratch.

"It's perfect." Sam had assured him and had promised that they would look online for model car parts so Dean could start a new project. The last few days he'd been busy with this car and Sam's real car but they both knew that Dean would get bored pretty soon without a new project.

Why Sam even bothered with stuff like this was still beyond Dean but if he wanted to buy him things to keep him occupied he wasn't complaining.

To pass the time Dean popped in a DVD, some old Bruce Lee movie he'd seen a million times before but he was in no condition to watch something new.

It was way after midnight when finally the elevator moved. By then Dean had dozed off on the couch but at that sound he was wide awake in a second.

"You're still up." Sam said without surprise but with a light slur in his words. His tie was loosened and his jacket didn't sit as sharp as when he'd left anymore and his hair was a mess.

"You had fun?" Dean asked. He saw the glossy eyes, the flushed cheeks and didn't need to smell the alcohol to know that Sam was drunk.

"I had a blast." Giggling Sam slumped down next to him. Now Dean smelled the alcohol and sweat and maybe the rich aroma of good food but nothing indicating that Sam had sex on the party.

Why he was thinking about that he'd no idea and he was pretty sure that wasn't an activity Sam would pursue on his boss' birthday party but Dean couldn't deny the fact that he felt relieved when he didn't see or smell anything indicating sexual activities on Sam.

"Did she like your present?" Dean dared to ask when Sam just sat there for a long minute.

"She loved it." Now Sam's grin grew wider. "She was only pissed because she barely got a chance to play with it."

"It was her party." Dean reminded him. "It's not that she could just drive it around a room full of people."

"No, the other guests played with it all the time." Sam corrected him. "Ash and Jo even ended up in a fight over who was next. Jo won but by then somebody else already had the remote."

"What?" Dean blinked at him. That wasn't quite what he'd expected to hear. "Are you telling me that a room full of grown up adults were fighting over one stupid toy car?"

"Yep." Sam let the word pop. "And I've a list of six people who want one for themselves."

"Wha...?"

"They want to pay money."

"For toy cars?" Dean asked. "Last time I checked there were stores out there selling them."

"They want your toy cars." Sam said. "Apparently yours are more fun than the generic crap you can buy in a store. Ash's words not mine."

"Six?" A shy grin crept on Dean's lips.

"Six." Sam confirmed. "If you want."

"Well." Dean cleared his throat. "If they really want to waste money on it."

"You've no idea." Sam clapped his shoulder and then used him as a crutch to get up. "I'm drunk. Time for bed."

They made their way upstairs and not long after that they lay together in Sam's bed. Drunk as he was Sam just turned around and was asleep a second later. Dean on the other hand lay there, wide awake, and tried to wrap his mind around the fact that not just Ellen actually liked the car but that others wanted him to build more of them.

His mind was racing with ideas. He would take Sam up on his offer to look online for the basic parts but the body had to be done with scrap metal just like Ellen's.

By the time of dawn Dean had hardly slept at all but he had a few good ideas for the six cars. Six. This was ridiculous.

Under other circumstances Dean would have spent the night online, ordering the parts he would need and browsing for ideas, but Sam kept his phone and the laptop in a locked box under his side of the bed over night. Dean was pretty sure that he could pick the lock if he had to but with Sam sleeping just inches away that wasn't an option. He didn't want to risk what he had for that. And if he was honest, he was content with his situation.

Dean was up early, nursing a coffee and waiting for Sam to wake up. Which he did around nine. Sort of.

"Kill me now." Sam begged when he spotted Dean leaning in the door frame.

"I would but with spell in place …" Dean shrugged and placed a tray on the nightstand.

"What's that?" Sam mumbled into his pillow.

"A really good hangover remedy." Dean answered. "A greasy pork sandwich served up in a dirty ashtray."

Sam groaned.

"Okay, how about toast, scrambled eggs and orange juice?" Dean asked, setting up an improvised table with the tray so Sam could eat in bed. "And painkillers."

"Now we're talking." Sam came up to a more or less sitting position, a serious case of bed hair still blocking most of his view. Only with a delay he noticed the breakfast in bed.

"What did I do to deserve this?" He asked and reached for a dry slice of toast. He nibbled on it for a moment before he paused. "What did you do? Break my TV or something?"

"Hangover you're even less funny than usual." Dean made himself comfortable on the other side of the bed.

"So …" He snagged a glob of scrambled eggs from Sam's plate. "Six cars? Or was that just drunk talk?"

Sam had sounded serious last night but Dean still couldn't quite believe that and it was easy to dismiss it as the well meant rambling of an intoxicated incubus.

Sam didn't need to know that he'd made a fool out of himself by lying awake all night, thinking about those stupid cars.

"Six cars." Sam confirmed and raked a hand through his hair. It had to be some kind of secret incubus power that it lay almost perfectly after that one rake-through. The rest of his head still looked like road-kill, though.

"Seriously?"

"Seriously."

"Okay." Dean plopped back into the pillow. "We shouldn't waste time, then. Get up, I need your laptop."

"Just give me an hour." Sam squinted at him. "Or two."

"You're a lightweight, you know that?" Dean snuggled deeper into the pillow, looked like it would take a while until Sam was functional again. "Anything to let you recover quicker?"

"Sex?" He sounded hopeful.

"Not with that morning breath."

Sam pouted at him but didn't really look like he could carry through with the idea anyway.

"Take a shower and brush your teeth." Dean suggested and closed is eyes. He would lay here for a moment, just until Sam was ready to start the day.

The lack of sleep caught up with him and slowly he drifted off. He could get up and go searching for parts in the basement but by now he knew what he had at hand there and the bed was too comfy to get up just yet.

The last thing he noticed was the warmth of the blanket covering him and Sam's soft voice.

"You didn't get much sleep, didn't you?" There was a gentle hand on his head and he leaned into the touch.

When Dean opened his eyes again he was alone in the bed. And the sun was now up high in the sky.

"Dammit." Dean rolled out of bed and went to search for Sam. He found him showered and shaved and looking much more alive on the couch with his laptop and huge pot of coffee in front of him.

"You're awake, good." He greeted him when Dean came downstairs as if he was the one with the hangover. "Have a look at this." He patted the seat next to him.

They stayed the next two hours like this, sitting shoulder to shoulder with the laptop between them, searching for the right motor for Dean's cars.

"You should think about the price." Sam suddenly changed the topic. "Believe me, these people can afford it, hell, they expect to pay quite a bit for something custom-made."

Dean hadn't thought about that yet and he wasn't sure what a fair price for his work was.

"And think money this time." Sam reminded him. "You can't always go cheap with pie."

"Pie isn't cheap." Dean protested. "And in case you've forgotten, I don't really have use for money anymore."

That bit hurt a little but he was in a too good mood to brood over that now.

"You could use it to buy things for yourself." Sam offered. "You wouldn't have to rely completely on me. If you want something, you can just get it."

Dean thought about that. Sure, Sam would still be the one who had to go out and buy it or Dean had to use his laptop under his supervision to purchase something online but it would be a good feeling to have money for himself again.

"You would let me keep the money?" Dean knew Sam would never just take something from him but technically everything he owned was Sam's. Strictly speaking Sam owned him as well, not that Sam acted on it most of the time. Or at all.

"Dean, that's money you'll earn with your work, of course you can keep it." Sam said. "You can do whatever you want with it."

Dean leaned back and let the idea sink in. For six cars he wouldn't get that much money, he wouldn't be rich or anything, he knew that, but that wasn't important here. Important was that this was something he had for himself. And that was a good feeling.

"But I repay you for the parts." If he did this, he wanted to do it right.

Sam studied him for a moment and then offered his hand.

"Deal."

"Deal." Dean shook Sam's hand. And damn, that felt good.


	21. Chapter 21

Sam had known that the car was the perfect present for Ellen, her delightful squealing when she opened the box was more than proof enough, and he found Dean's worries quite amusing.

As long as he didn't think about that too deeply, then he felt the sudden urge to strangle the person who had beaten Dean's feeling of self-worth into nonexistence. Sam didn't know much about Dean's past and his family but if he had to guess, Dean's father was the one he wanted to strangle.

However, Dean never talked about his past, partly due to his current situation, Sam could only imagine how Dean must feel as his prisoner, but the main reason was because of what had happened to him before he'd met Sam.

Sam didn't ask and he never came back to Benny's offer to have a look at Dean's file, if it was as bad as Sam figured there probably was a file about it. Dean would talk to him on his own terms. Or not at all and that would be okay, too.

So at the party Sam didn't feel like his present was cheap or inappropriate or something like that, however, the reaction of the other guests surprised him nonetheless. Ellen had to search her house for batteries and they went through three sets of them over the night with Ellen the person who played with the car the least.

Dean's little car was the talk of the party and one by one people approached Sam to ask where he'd bought it.

"A friend of mine made it." Was his standard answer, which he always gave with pride.

By the end of the night Sam had six orders in his pocket, some with quite specific requests he wasn't sure Dean could fulfill. Or if he even wanted to build those cars for people he didn't even know. But that was the least of Sam's worries, if he had to bet money, he would have said that Dean would jump at that opportunity. And he was right.

By the time the ordered parts arrived, Sam had them delivered to his workplace, Dean had used the measurements to draw scratches of the cars and had spent hours emailing back and forth with his customers to clarify the details. Sam knew about the latter because he was the one typing. He trusted Dean, he did, but Dean would have been stupid if he had free access to the laptop and didn't call for help. So Sam did the typing and most of the time he'd no clue what Dean and the customer were talking about. Nothing dangerous, that much he understood, and for the rest he just played Dean's secretary.

They used Dean's email address, it only seemed fair, and Sam got a look at his inbox. Spam mostly and very few personal emails. All of them from Bobby.

The man was concerned about Dean's disappearance and lack of communication.

Dean read the messages with misty eyes and then asked with a croaky voice if he could answer. There was no way Sam could tell him no.

So Dean told his friend that he was okay, that he was with somebody, he even had a few nice things to say about Sam, and that some stupid rich people were willing to pay him money for scrap on wheels.

The time Sam was at work Dean spent in the basement, sorting scrap metal into six small piles and more often than not the smell of hot metal lay in the air from the welding or the sound of hammer on metal let Sam's ears ring. Good thing they didn't have any neighbors.

Dean tried to keep up with his self-imposed duty of making dinner and Sam was happy with every hot meal he got but the days Dean forgot the time Sam just made them sandwiches or they ordered in, no big deal. Seeing the happy smile on Dean's face was more than worth it.

"Sam?" Ellen knocked at his open door, nothing unusual there but the way she said his name in an almost shy way was unusual.

"Yes?" Sam looked up from his work, mentally searching for the reason she was approaching him. "Don't rush me, I'll need at least another hour to finish this."

"No, that's not …" She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "That car you gave me for my birthday …"

"Yeah?" Now she had Sam's full attention. Was something wrong with it? Dean would be devastated if she had something to complain about.

"I heard your friend is taking orders?" She asked. She smiled to herself with a little shake of her head. "Jo can't keep her hands off mine. And with her birthday coming up next month …"

"Uh." Sam leaned back in his chair. This started to grow into something he hadn't expected. And he wasn't sure what to think of it.

"I know your friend does them just for fun." Ellen hurried to say. "And he's probably busy …"

"No." Sam cut her off. The last thing Dean was, was busy. "Tell you what, I'll ask him as soon as I get home and he'll send you an email so you can work out the details."

"Great." She smiled at him and turned to leave but then stopped. "He moved in? Sam, you sly dog. You didn't tell me that it was this serious."

"Well." Sam shrugged and didn't know what to say. Dean had _moved in_ before they even knew each other. And not by choice.

"'You told me it wasn't that serious. You should have brought him with you to the party." She glared at him. "Now I feel like an ass for leaving him out."

"A pretty ass."

"Smart ass." She shot back. "But seriously, next time you bring him along."

"Yes, ma'am." Sam agreed with no intention of keeping that promise. Going out with Dean for a coffee had nearly ended in a heart attack on his part, no way was he taking him to a party. And now Sam felt like the biggest ass on earth.

He promised Ellen that Dean would send her an email, at least to tell her if he would accept the order or not.

The rest of the day Sam could hardly focus on his work.

He had the feeling that this was a crucial point. He could let Dean build those six, now seven, cars and that was it. Or he could let it grow into something. Before he knew it Sam was thinking of Dean's signature on the cars. Of business cards they could hand out. An online shop.

If they did this right, it could grow into something big. Perhaps even big enough for Dean to make a living out of it. Sam knew people in the community who could help with the marketing. Hell, he knew people who would like to buy one of Dean's cars.

"Uh." Surprised by this thoughts Sam leaned back in his chair. He could limit Dean's communication with his customers to email. Under Sam's supervision, of course.

However, the scrap metal in the basement would get Dean only that far, he would need more.

Scrap yards came to mind. Sam had no idea what Dean would need and Dean probably needed to see a piece of junk to decide if he could use it or not. So yeah, if Sam let Dean go down this road he would have to let him go out, too.

"The diner has worked out just fine." He mumbled to himself. "With far more people around than you'll find in a scrap yard."

Deep down he already had made his decision, no matter how often he told himself that this was the stupidest idea ever, and he knew it.

And he had to face it, he liked Dean, maybe even loved him – which by itself was ridiculous, he was an incubus and not in for the big feelings – and he wanted more for Dean.

Sometimes Sam wished they'd met in one of the clubs he'd frequented and their relationship had grown from there. Life would be easier now.

_You could let him go_, a helpful voice whispered in the back of his mind. But that was out of option and not because having Dean around was convenient or because Sam liked him and didn't want to let him go.

The community they had set up in this city worked because of two reasons: They were everywhere and they knew how to keep a secret.

For the first time Sam didn't feel safe and protected by the community.

Benny had promised to get Dean out of the city if something happened to Sam, however, the only reason he had given that promise was the fact that Sam wasn't likely to die any time soon. They kept the community a hunter free zone so there weren't any humans around who even knew how to kill Sam.

He wasn't entirely sure if Benny would keep his promise, though. He would risk a lot for a human he barely knew. But at least he would make it a quick death for Dean.

"Let's just not find out." Sam huffed to himself and brought his thoughts back to the crazy idea of setting up a business for Dean.

Before he could lose himself in that idea he had to asked Dean, of course, see what the other man thought of the it.

Sam wasn't sure how he wanted Dean to react, though. Dismissing the idea would keep their lives on a safe level while taking Sam up on this would make everything way more complicated.

Back home, over dinner, Sam went for the less life changing news first.

"Ellen asked me if you could build her another car." Sam said around a mouth full of pasta. He'd no idea what Dean had put in the sauce but it was delicious. If the cars didn't work out, Dean should start a career as a chef.

"The other one broke already?" Dean chewed on some garlic bread, desperately trying to not show his disappointment but Sam saw right through that facade.

"No, her daughter is constantly stealing it from her so she wants another one for her birthday."

Dean froze mid-chew. "Are you making this up?"

"I told Ellen you would send her an email if you take the order or not." Sam wiped his plate with a piece of bread. "You can ask her if she's serious."

Dean shook his head in disbelieve but the smile on his lips betrayed him.

"There's something else I wanted to talk about." Sam pushed the plate away. He noticed the sudden tension in Dean's posture and he wondered if Dean would ever trust him enough to not expect the worst every time Sam wanted to talk about something.

"You like building these cars, don't you?"

"Yeah." Dean shrugged. "Helps to pass the time." He said it nonchalantly as if he didn't want to let Sam know how much it really meant to him. So Sam wouldn't take it away? That thought left an uneasy feeling in Sam's stomach but he ignored it for now.

"I was thinking, why not go professional with it?"

"What?"

Sam explained his idea to him, over the day it had grown to a solid plan. Dean listened, his eyes growing bigger with every word Sam said.

"An online shop?"

"We could give it a try." Not it was Sam's turn to shrug. "If it doesn't work out, it doesn't work out."

"You do realize that it costs money to set this all up." Dean tried to reason with him but there was a sparkle in his eyes.

"I'm willing to take that risk." Money wasn't exactly a problem for Sam. "But if it works out, I expect you to pay me back." That part was important for him. This was not something Sam sat up to entertain his slave. Sam wanted this to be Dean's. Sure he would need Sam's money to start but Sam wanted to be out of it as soon as possible.

"Of course." The way Dean smiled at him, he got the full meaning of this. It would be Dean's business, Sam would have no say in it.

"And you would really go to scrap yards with me?"


	22. Chapter 22

The next day Dean still wasn't sure what to think of the idea with the online shop. It sounded cool at first but the longer he thought about it the stupider it looked. Sam was willing to spend quite some money on this. Setting up a professional website alone was expensive but Sam was determined to do it right. No half-ass do it yourself crap.

Now Dean had to think of a name for his business. Sam wanted to have business cards ready to hand out with the cars Dean was working on and for that he'd need a name.

Shaking his head Dean went to work on the current car. He could think best while his hands were busy anyway. And with the additional order from Ellen he would be busy for a while now. These cars weren't a days work.

This time he knew he wasn't building the cars for himself so he went to work with more care and actually worked out things he'd brushed off with a "good enough" earlier.

It did feel good, though, and if he was honest he liked the idea of making a profession out of this.

A mean little voice in the back of his mind kept telling him that he would fail miserably with this, though. As always. When had he ever been successful with anything? He hadn't finished school, had never had a steady job or a relationship that lasted longer than three weeks. He was a failure as a son and why Bobby had put up with him after … he still had no clue. And now he would disappoint Sam as well.

He tried to ignore that voice but it was persistent.

Sam had been busy, too, and when Dean opened his emails that evening his inbox was full with design samples for the cards and the website.

"That was quick." Dean sat back in astonishment. Most of the text was placeholder nonsense to illustrate the idea but he saw where this was going. And he had to say, he liked it. Strict and clear, nothing too fancy.

"Benefit of being part of the community." Sam shrugged but couldn't hide a grin.

"Now I'm part of the community?" Dean raised an eyebrow to that. He wasn't sure if he liked that idea, though. "Do I want to know what kind of monster this Susan is?" He squinted at the screen to get the name right. Susan sounded nice. For all he knew she ate human liver for breakfast.

"Probably not." Sam confirmed.

Overwhelmed with the decisions Dean let it be for the moment and wrote an email to Bobby instead. He told him that he had yet another order for his scrap on wheels and that Sam wanted to waste money by going professional with it.

"Why do you call it scrap on wheels?" Sam asked while he typed the email.

"Because that's what it is. Just scrap." Dean kept his eyes on the screen, he didn't want to see the pity in Sam's eyes. He couldn't shake off the feeling that Sam did this just to entertain him.

"It starts as scrap." Sam said in a soft voice. "But what you make out of it … I saw Ellen's car, I saw the blueprints for the new ones, hell, I see the half-done stuff in the basement and all I can think of is how awesome it is."

"You don't have to sweeten this for me." Dean shifted uneasily in his seat.

"I'm not. This scrap on wheels." He even made the air-quotes. "Is pretty badass."

"If you say so." Dean wasn't convinced. "Write that I'll send pictures of the cars so he can have a good laugh."

Sam did type it but Dean could tell that he didn't like it.

"It would make a good name, though." Sam sucked in his bottom lip, thinking.

"What would make a good name?" With his mind on the email they were writing Dean must have missed something here.

"Scrap on Wheels."

"Hmm." Thinking about it, Sam had a point. And it was better than anything they'd come up before. It was catchy and it said clearly what they were dealing with.

"Scrap on Wheels." Dean tested the sound of it. "I like it." He decided and with that it was settled.

They spend the rest of the evening emailing back and forth with Susan to discuss the details and in the end they had a pretty good concept of the website, the business cards and Susan had a few tips on marketing in general.

That was all they could do on their end, now they had to wait for Susan to come back to them but Dean was more happy with the actual work in the basement anyway.

A few days later, Sam was at work, Dean stood in the basement, finishing the paintwork of the first of the ordered cars.

_If this pays out_, he thought to himself, _I'll invest in some airbrush equipment._

He could work with spry cans but with airbrush he would get better results, he was sure of it.

The can still in hand he stepped back to have a critical look at his work.

_Not bad,_ he had to admit.

The sound of the gate opening drew him out of his thoughts. A quick glance at his watch confirmed that this time he hadn't forgotten the time, it was only a little after one which was way too early for Sam to come home. And when he looked out of the window he didn't recognize the car coming down the driveway.

"What the hell?"

The car came closer and now Dean could make out the silhouette of the man behind the wheel. There weren't many people who would just come by for a visit, none to be exact, and Dean could only think of one wearing such a stupid hat.

"Shit." Dean stumbled backwards, an icy fist clenching his stomach. There was only one reason why Benny would be here.

"Hello?" The door opened and Detective Lafitte stepped in. "Dean? Are you here?"

Dean got his bearings, more or less, and made his way around the corner.

"What happened?" He asked, his voice hoarse all of a sudden. "Is Sam okay?" _Don't tell me he's dead, don't, don't … _

Benny blinked at him before realization dawned on his face.

"Sam's okay." He hurried to say and Dean breathed easier. Which was stupid. If anything happened to Sam he would get out. At least he had said so. If Benny would carry through with that plan Dean wasn't so sure about.

"He's okay, Dean." Benny repeated. "He'll be home after work as usual."

"Why are you here, then?" If Sam was okay, why was Benny here? Wary of the situation, Dean squared his shoulders. Base line he was alone with a blood-thirsty monster.

Would the spell prevent him from defending himself against the vampire? He didn't know but he wasn't keen on finding out either. He wasn't sure if he would stand a chance against a vampire under best circumstances.

"I wanted to talk to you." Benny answered easily. "I'm not here to harm you."

"Okay?" Dean's mind was racing. By now it was clear that this had nothing to do with Sam but he couldn't for the life of his think of a reason why the vampire wanted to talk to him. For sure he wasn't here to do his job as a cop and free the kidnapped man.

"I know you don't want Sam to know about your past." Benny started but was interrupted by Dean.

"You ran my name?" Of course he did, everything made sense now. After what Sam had hinted at their last meeting, how could he not? Dean had to lean against the wall, he didn't trust his legs right now.

"Hey, easy there." Suddenly Benny was close. Too close.

"Don't." Out of reflex Dean kept him at arm's length with his palm flat on the other man's chest. Benny stopped and even took a step back to give Dean some room.

"Did you tell Sam?" That was the important question here. Benny knew, nothing he could do about that, but Sam?

"No." Benny answered, eying him for a moment.

"You really got fucked over." The vampire said and walked over to the workbench where the unfinished cars lay. Curious he picked one up. "And I'm not talking about Sam pounding your ass."

"That's none of your business." Dean snatched the car out of his hand.

"I guess it's not." The vampire took the hint and backed off.

"What do you want?" What was the price Dean had to pay to buy his silence? That was the big question here. There wasn't much Dean could offer, he was painfully aware of that fact.

Benny studied him for a long moment, reading him while Dean tried to read him in return. He expected to see pity there, maybe disgust, but Benny's face didn't give anything away.

"You would do everything to keep your past a secret from Sam." Benny finally said with something like surprise in his voice.

"Spit it out, what do you want?" If Dean had to go on his knees for this or bent over or whatever, he wanted to get it over with as quickly as possible.

"You know it wasn't your fault." Benny repeated the words Dean had heard way too often since then. On a rational level he knew it hadn't been his fault but deep down he wasn't so sure. And the memory of Kyle's parents telling him to the face that they blamed him for everything was still way too vivid.

"I'm the one who came out alive." Dean avoided his eyes.

"Surviving doesn't make it your fault."

"And talking shrink doesn't tell me what you want." Dean snapped at him. Why couldn't he get some peace? It had been so long, why did it always have to come back?

Benny smiled at him with a hint of too many teeth.

"You're a feisty one, aren't you?" He asked when Dean failed to flinch at the sight of his not so human side. "I see why Sam likes you so much."

Dean just glared at him.

"Anyway." He turned back to the cars but didn't touch them this time. "I don't know how much freedom Sam allows you so this might do nothing more than to freak you out for no reason at all."

He paused and Dean fought the urge to throttle him.

"I read your file and then I had a look at your father's."

"That bastard is gone." That was the only good thing about this whole mess. John Winchester was rotting in prison and for all Dean cared he could die there.

"Not quite." Benny didn't turn, his eyes still on the unfinished cars.

"What do you mean?" Dean had forgotten how to breathe. Benny wasn't indicating what he thought he was, was he?

"Looks like fortune favors the assholes." Now Benny turned around. "Good conduct, ratting out a cell mate and cutting costs on the prison's side and voila your old man is getting out."

"When?" Gray spots swam in his vision and now he really needed the wall to keep him upright. But no way was he going to show his weakness in front of this stranger. Just no. Dean forced himself to breathe through the dizziness, slow and controlled.

"Soon." Benny answered. "There is no set date yet. But I'd guess a few month, half a year tops."


	23. Chapter 23

Sam knew something was wrong the moment he got out of the car. He couldn't put his finger on it but something was off.

The basement was empty.

Dean could be upstairs, making dinner, but his workplace wasn't as tidy as it used to be. While he was working on something, Dean never put away all his tools, he would have to get them out first thing in the morning anyway so no point in storing them over night, but he also never left his workplace in such a mess. It looked as if he had been interrupted in the middle of something and then just didn't return to what he was doing.

Sam picked up the freshly finished car. The paintjob was new but there were still a few details missing.

"Uh." He put it back and went for the elevator.

"I've a bad feeling about this." He muttered under his breath and hit the button once more just for good measure.

The loft was dark. It didn't smell like Dean had been cooking and worst of all, Dean didn't answer Sam's call.

It was almost night outside so the loft lay in front of him in a dark twilight, he could make out the shape of the furniture but not much more. Nothing looked Dean-shaped.

"Dean?" Sam called again and reached for the light switch. When the lights came to life he had to blink against the sudden brightness.

"Dean!"

He lay on the couch but not in a comfortable way. More like he'd just collapsed there and had been lucky to land on it, more or less, and didn't fall between the couch and the table.

"Dean, hey." Sam shoved the table aside without a look at the things on top. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something moving but he was too slow to catch the falling bottle. The glass shattered on the floor and the strong aroma of whiskey hit Sam like a sledge-hammer. There hadn't been much left in the bottle anyway but the scene made more sense now. Especially if he took the empty glass into account.

"Oh, Dean." Sam dropped next to the couch with a sigh. Even the noise of the shattering glass hadn't cut through Dean's alcohol indicated sleep. Sam gently brushed the sweaty hair out of his face and then rolled him back on the couch, far enough that he wasn't in danger of falling off anymore. Dean didn't stir. Lying on his back he started to snore, though.

"What did you do?" Sam asked and wondered what had happened. Dean had been fine when he'd left him in the morning. Excited and full of energy. Looking back Sam tried to find something he might have missed at that time which would be rather obvious now but he came up with nothing.

"What happened while I was gone?" He wondered but didn't get an answer to that one either. He hadn't expected one, though. He would be surprised if Dean could articulate a full sentence before noon. Before that Sam wouldn't find out what had happened and why Dean had felt the need to crawl into a bottle.

"Let's get you in bed, then." Sam tried to rise Dean but that was fruitless. Dean was like an uncooperative rag doll. A heavy one. In the end Sam carried him upstairs bride-style. Gently he laid him out on the bed and then worked him out of his shoes, still the work boots Dean only wore in the basement, and stripped him down to his underwear and t-shirt.

"You smell, you know that?" Sam wrinkled his nose at the strong smell of alcohol and sweat coming from Dean but a shower had to wait until he was at least conscious again. For a brief moment Sam wondered if he needed a hospital, alcohol poisoning came to mind, but then Dean smacked his lips and rolled to the side with a sigh and Sam figured he just needed to sleep it off. At least he hoped so. He would bring Dean to a hospital, he would, but he'd rather not.

He trusted sober Dean to not spill his beans but drunken Dean?

It was too early for Sam to turn in as well but he never left Dean for more than a few minutes. What if Dean had to throw up but didn't wake up in time? He could choke to death on his own waste. So Sam made himself a sandwich which he ate in the chair in his bedroom from where he had a good view on the bed and then he laid down next to Dean with the TV running. He kept it on a low volume but he figured Dean wouldn't even notice if he'd turn it up all the way.

Late in the evening Sam was zapping through the channels, eyes dropping until he didn't open them again. He woke up to rather strange noises, though.

Rubbing his face, he smacked himself with the remote trying that, Sam sat up and had a look around. The TV was still running but Dean's side of the bed was empty. His first thought was that Dean was in the bathroom but there was that noise again. Coming from Sam's side of the bed. Rolling to his side Sam peered over the edge of the bed.

"Dean?" Sam blinked, maybe he was still dreaming. "What are you doing?"

Dean was half kneeling, half lying on the floor, a concentrated look on his face and was working on the box where Sam kept his laptop and phone over night. It looked like Dean was trying to pick the lock. Not very successfully, though.

Caught Dean froze.

"I ..." He started, staring up at Sam. There were tears running down his face and even this one word was slurred. Partly because he was drunk, sure, but Sam got the feeling that this was more from the emotions he could read on Dean's face than anything else.

"Please ... I need ... I didn't ... I ... I ..." Whatever he wanted to say was lost in his sobbing. He came up to a sitting position, his back to the bed and Sam couldn't see his face anymore. Dean sat there, legs stretched out in front of him, hand with a piece of wire lifelessly on the floor next to him and with his head hanging. Defeated, was the word in Sam's mind.

"Dean?" Sam sat up fully and then slit out of bed to sit next to him. "What are you doing?"

"I need the phone." That sentence came out surprisingly clear.

"Who do you want to call?" Sam kept his voice even and made sure to speak slowly, he doubted Dean could follow a quick conversation at the moment.

"Bobby."

Sam could only make out that name because so far Bobby had been the only person Dean had wanted to communicate with.

"Why do you want to call Bobby?" Sam asked. This didn't make sense. Dean and Bobby exchanged emails almost every day now and if Dean wanted to call him all he had to do was to ask Sam. But a phone call hadn't come up in a while and if Sam was honest, he preferred the emails. That way he could control the information Dean passed on but so far Dean hadn't tried to slip something past him. At least Sam hadn't noticed. However, Bobby hadn't come to the rescue so he was pretty sure that Dean was honest with him here.

So why did he try to steal the phone?

Dean didn't answer the question, he just sat there with his head hanging and for a moment Sam was sure he'd just gone back to sleep. But then Dean came into motion, tried to scramble to his feet but only made it to all fours before he gagged and coughed and the sour odor of vomit hit Sam. Only with a delay he felt the vomit soaking through his sweats, warm and wet.

"Shit." Sam hurried to get to his feet, with more success than Dean, and ran into the bathroom to get the waste bucket. Dean didn't sound like he was done but Sam doubted he could get him over to the toilet without at least one more accident.

"Here." Sam shoved the bucket in Dean's face, who got the idea and gripped the rim as if his life depended on it. With that taken care off Sam hurried back to the bathroom to get rid of his soiled pants but was back at Dean's side in less than a minute.

"Easy there." Sam rubbed soothing circles on Dean's back with one hand while he kept him from toppling over with the other one firmly on his forehead. "Just let it out."

They sat on the floor for quite a while, Sam had no idea for how long only that his legs went numb at some point and that the barf he was kneeling in was cold by now.

"You done?" When the dry heaving stopped and Dean hung heavy in his grip, Sam guided him back to a sitting position with his back leaning against the bed. "Stay here."

Never really letting Dean out of his sight Sam rinsed the bucket and while he was at it, he gave his bare legs a quick once over as well. Feeling clean again he filled a glass of water for Dean and went back to the bedroom.

Dean hadn't moved but accepted the water to rinse his mouth and then drank the rest greedily.

"Dean, what happened?" Sam took the glass back and set it aside. At least for the moment Dean seemed to be with him.

"Benny was here." He finally said, eyes already dropping. "I need to tell Bobby."

"Benny was here?" Sam hadn't expected that. If it hadn't been the middle of the night Sam would have called his friend right then to scold him for upsetting Dean. Whatever Benny had told him it had devastated Dean. Or was it something Benny had done?

Sam knew Benny, trusted him, he wouldn't just come over to do something to Dean. Even if they weren't friends, Dean was Sam's and everybody in the community would respect that. No, Benny hadn't done anything, not on purpose at least.

Dean hadn't answered his question but he was still awake, more or less.

"What did he tell you?"

Now he shook his head rather violently.

"Please ... can't ... can't ..." The sobbing was back and Dean leaned into Sam until he was clinging to him, crying into his chest.

"Hey, it's okay." Helplessly Sam embraced him in a tight hug and went back to rubbing circles on Dean's back. "Let's get you back to bed. Sleep it off. You can call Bobby in the morning."

"I can?" Dean perked up to that, a ridiculous cheerful expression on his face when he looked up to Sam with bright eyes. But then his face crumbled and he turned his gaze away. "No, I can't."

"Hey, I said you can." Sam tried to reassure him but Dean didn't listen. He was crying and mumbling into Sam's damp t-shirt.

It took him a while to coax Dean back to bed where he finally fell asleep again, head on Sam's chest and one hand in a death-grip on Sam's t-shirt.

Sam let him drool and snore all over him. He couldn't sleep but he lay perfectly still to not disturb Dean while his mind was racing.

Going through the little information he had, Sam could only imagine that Benny had told Dean something. Probably something connected to Dean's past. That was still something Dean refused to talk about.

The fact that he'd tried to steal the phone either meant that he had to warn Bobby in some way and didn't want Sam to know about what or he wanted Bobby to come and get him out of here. Both thoughts didn't ease Sam's mind. In the end he couldn't do anything before Dean was back among the living.

With a sigh Sam tightened his hold on Dean and waited for morning to come.


End file.
